


Wanted

by Livinginfictions



Series: You Are [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Because I said so and he's stupid, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Has Nightmares, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mates, Oblivious Stiles, Pack Feels, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Peter Left or Something-He's just Gone, Puppy Piles, Season 3 rewrite, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Slow Build, Slow Paced, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, True Alpha Scott McCall, all the good ones at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 88,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinginfictions/pseuds/Livinginfictions
Summary: With the Hale pack finally settled and safe, it only makes sense that something would happen to screw it all up. To top it all off, Stiles has to pretend to be Derek's mate, or face a pack of angry Alphas. He's doomed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! The first chapter of "Needed"s sequel! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3
> 
> A Huge thanks to my beautiful Beta [PerseShow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerseShow/pseuds/PerseShow), this work wouldn't be what it is without her. <3

Coming together as the summer came to a close got harder. Erica, Boyd, Scott, and Stiles had families they were obligated to spend the majority of their time with, and some of them had summer jobs that kept them even busier. Jackson left, gone to live in London with his father. Stiles knew that Derek had helped him find an anchor, a thought to keep him sane during the full moon, and that Deaton had given Jackson a number to contact. Apparently there was another wolf pack in the area he was moving to. One that hopefully had less drama and a more stable condition than Derek’s.

Not that they hadn’t been steadily improving. Derek was trying really hard, and Stiles was helping as best he could to make the pack feel more comfortable together. Once Erica and Boyd returned to their homes and the missing persons cases were called off, the pack was finally able to be in public together without one of them being persecuted. They did bonding activities at least once a week like going swimming or running, sometimes Scott even let them all go hang out at his place for movie nights, since Mrs. Mccall finally knew what was going on. Stiles wanted to have them at his as well, but with the Sheriff not in the know, Derek didn’t think it was safe enough. Besides, Stiles knew Derek was antsy about getting to be with the pack in his own space soon.

The house was nearly done, with them all working every spare second on it. Derek was furious that he had to call in actual professionals to do the electrics and utilities, but Stiles hounded him until he gave in. He knew Derek was just sensitive about strangers at the house, but it didn’t take them long at all to finish hooking everything up, and then the house just needed basic things like wallpaper and paint and furniture.

Lydia helped with that. She came up to Scott while he was working at Deaton’s clinic a month and a half into summer break and outright demanded an explanation. Scott being Scott, couldn’t think of a good reason to deny her and brought her to Derek almost immediately.

When the two of them came to the door of the technically brand new house, Stiles was inside, watching Derek teach Isaac hand to hand in a relaxed setting. If he was honest, Stiles spent most of his time at the pack house these days.

His dad had finally kicked him off the volunteer list at the station, citing that Stiles needed to find better things to do than follow him around the office taking decent food away and replacing it with salads. It was the healthiest his father had ever been, but Stiles couldn’t help agreeing that the constant pushing about his blood pressure diet was putting a bit of a strain on them. So he gave him space, and that meant spending all his free time at the pack house hanging out.

It didn’t matter who was there, Stiles always had something to do. Erica made him watch movies with her in her bedless room—which was only technically hers, since she still lived with her parents—and Boyd liked to train with Stiles, pushing him to do pushups and pullups and run laps around the house even though there was no scientific way Stiles could ever keep up with werewolf speed. Isaac just liked to play videogames on whatever console someone brought with them, and Scott joined literally any activity Stiles was already engaged in whenever he came over.

Then there was Derek. It took about a day after the Spark realization for Stiles to get used to Derek’s newfound personal space issues. Well, he’d always had personal space issues, only now he didn’t bother to correct them in public, and they were a lot less violently inclined.

The slightest tick in Stiles’ heartbeat and Derek was sneaking his way into the five foot circle of personal bubble that Stiles was starting to give up on having. There was always someone in it, Derek was just the most unusual. No, Stiles had to take that back. Boyd was the most unusual. For a guy who seemed so disconnected from things sometimes, Boyd was just as tactile as the rest of them and it somehow always surprised Stiles to receive even a hand on the back in acknowledgement.

Derek didn’t usually use his hands, he used his whole body as a soother for Stiles’ anxiety. Sometimes he pressed up against Stiles’ back or wrapped his arms around Stiles’ shoulders like he was preparing to pull him away from something. Other times he actually tried to shield Stiles by standing slightly in front of him. Stiles wasn’t sure how it happened, but he seemed to have somehow become Derek’s pet. Even worse, he didn’t mind.

When they were alone together was when Stiles felt the most at ease, sometimes even more so than when he was alone with Scott, though he didn’t think he could ever admit that to his best friend. They tended not to really do things together, but rather be near each other enjoying their own plans. Stiles worked on research while Derek read for fun, or Derek watched Marvel movies—something that Stiles still couldn’t get over—while Stiles pretended he wasn’t watching over his back.

He used his newfound tranquility with Derek to try and smooth out some of the bumps the Betas had with their Alpha. Once his friends realized he was unaffected by the Alpha’s intimidation tactics, they came to him quietly with things they weren’t able to talk to Derek about. Afterwards, he would find a reason to be alone with Derek and brought it up as gently as he could. His persistence was effective, and he usually managed to either help Derek work it out himself, or at least get him to have a conversation with them.

The sparring was a particularly rough situation, and it’d taken three separate conversations to convince Derek he needed to be more careful during his Betas’ training. To ensure everyone’s comfort, Stiles hung around and supervised while Derek taught the Betas, both one on one and together, without all the urgency and carelessness of their first lessons. Derek eased into it almost immediately, and it quickly became a chance for Stiles to pretend he was watching an MMA fight in slow motion, even throwing popcorn when it became available.

Stiles was in the middle of doing a referee style tap out count for Isaac practicing a takedown, when Derek and Isaac went stiff. “What’s up?” he asked, sitting up immediately. They hadn’t been in danger in a long time, but Stiles was getting better at shifting from one mood to the next as the pack needed it.

“Someone’s coming up to the house with Scott. Someone human.” Derek said. He breathed deeply through his nose. “She’s wearing perfume, something flowery, and smells like cherries?”

Stiles was up and headed to the door even as he corrected, “It’s Apres L’ondee by Guerlain, and the lipgloss is Cherry Symphony.” He didn’t have a chance to be embarrassed by his ridiculous knowledge because he pulled open the door and grinned. “Lydia!”

She still looked perfect. Strawberry blonde curls tumbled across her shoulders looking unfairly soft, a lilac skirt was paired with a frilled white blouse, and her grass green eyes scanned the room with sharp interest. Stiles would have understood her feeling less than amazing after losing the love of her life to London, but he was almost ashamed for expecting her to look anything but fabulous.

Somewhere between taking her to the winter formal and driving her to save Jackson’s life, they’d become actual friends, and Lydia didn’t hesitate to pull Stiles into a quick hug. “What are you doing here, Stiles? Don’t tell me you’re not human either. Not that it wouldn’t make perfect sense, I just don’t see how you could keep a lie like that from me.”

“I’d never lie to you Lydia, I’m as human as it gets, just—” and curse Stiles for glancing at Derek, “a little extra thrown in.” But there were more important things to talk about, like why Lydia Martin was standing in the doorway of the pack house.

Lydia seemed to realize where she was as well, and all it took was a raised eyebrow aimed at Stiles for him to stick an arm out and lead her into the living room. There was no actual furniture, just a few of Erica and Boyd’s old cushions piled together on the floor, but Stiles helped Lydia sit neatly down on them. 

Behind him, Scott entered the house with an unsurprised grumble. “Nice to see you too, Stiles. So kind of you to notice there were  _ two _ people at the door.”

When Stiles finally looked back at Isaac and Derek, they were staring at him, still locked in the pretend takedown sequence. Not sure if their shock was caused by his comment before opening the door, or his behaviour after, Stiles just shrugged. “What? It’s Lydia.”

The reminder seemed to shake Derek from his slight stupor, and he and Isaac straightened up. As he always did around strangers, Derek switched to what Stiles liked to call “Full Alpha Mode”. Besides the obvious defensive crossing of the arms, Derek’s back went straight and his whole body stiffened. Then there was the eyebrow overdose he threw in when he was especially suspicious, bunching them up like he was using them to suppress his shift. 

Why Stiles was so acutely aware of these behaviors, he didn’t want to think about.

A much more recent development to the Full Alpha Mode, was Derek moving toward Stiles. He knew the cause of this one, because Scott had explained it, as politely as he could.

“You’re the only human in the pack...the only one who doesn’t have a built in defense system. He’s worried about you,” he’d mumbled. Never mind the thrill Stiles got when Scott outright said he was part of the pack, he should have been offended by the assumption that he couldn’t take care of himself. But he wasn’t. In fact, it was kind of endearing knowing that Derek wanted to protect him.

The unforeseen consequence of Derek trying to shield Stiles from Lydia, however, was that he ended up less than a foot away from Lydia. He didn’t seem in the mood to admit he’d made a mistake, so Stiles just did the backing up for him, letting Derek follow him to a more reasonable distance.

Everyone just looked at each other, until Scott broke the silence. “Lydia wanted an explanation, and I just thought—after everything our situation has put her through—she deserves one. But, Derek, I wanted to let you do it.”

This was big, and Stiles couldn’t stop the beam of happiness he projected at both Scott and Derek. Look at them! Being grown-up and respecting each other!

Scott at least tried to smile back, but Derek had now latched his famous drilling stare onto Lydia, who was staring back. She might not realize it, but Lydia was challenging Derek. That probably wouldn’t end well for anyone, least of all the humans in the room.

Again, there was silence. A silence that was building up pressure very quickly, and Stiles didn’t want to see how it blew. Still slightly hidden behind Derek, Stiles put a hand on his upper arm. “Derek?”

For a second, Stiles worried he’d messed up. Derek went impossibly tense and actually felt like he was vibrating. Then he stopped, and his shoulders lowered, and he began to walk out of the room. “I need a minute.” he growled.

Stiles knew that growl, and he wasn’t the least bit surprised when Derek didn’t make it out of sight before adding, “Come on, Little Red.” It was his  _ I don’t know what to do _ growl. The confused one that Stiles loved to help with. 

He hadn’t even taken a step when Lydia jumped to her feet and snapped, “Excuse me?”

Whoops.

The nickname didn’t make much sense to anyone outside of the pack, Stiles knew that. He’d even tried to suggest different ones for Derek to call him, but it’d never worked. Little Red stuck, and for the most part Stiles didn’t have to worry about it being misunderstood. But Lydia was essentially a redhead. The only one in the house.

“No, Lydia, no, he meant me.” For good measure, Stiles snatched up the hoodie that’d been puddled on the floor and pulled it on. He gestured down at the dark red color, and the flames in Lydia’s eyes died down a little. It was a vicious cycle. No one understood the nickname unless he was wearing his hoodie, but wearing the hoodie only made Derek use the nickname more.

Stiles scrambled into the kitchen where Derek was waiting, and decided to get in a bit of a tirade before he dealt with the actual problem. “See? You see that? If you picked a name that actually sounded like a descriptor of me, and not my wardrobe, that wouldn’t happen!” Stiles scolded. If he waved his arms around a little excessively, it was just a sign of how passionate he was about the subject.

Derek actually laughed, and Stiles hated the smug look on his face when Derek just sipped from a glass of water and said, “You love it.”

God help him, Stiles kind of did. It was a nice way for Derek to show his emotional level without directly saying, “I’m stressed, but not so stressed that I’ll bite your head off for trying to help.” He liked the different ways he and Derek communicated, because it made things about a thousand times easier for the rest of the pack. Somehow they hadn’t learned to read Derek’s eyebrows and growls and body language the way Stiles had, so they often relied on him to be the judge of Derek’s current disposition. As long as it worked, Stiles refused to question his methods.

Resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at the Alpha, Stiles leaned against the counter with Derek and stole his water glass. “So, what’s up?”

Derek didn’t even bother to resist, and Stiles considered it a win. “I need to know if you think it’s safe to tell her. You’ve known her longer than I have.”

This was clearly a serious situation, so Stiles took his own sip and tried to respond with the right amount of solemnity. “Well, if there’s anyone in town that can keep a secret, it’s Lydia. And Scott has a point, she does kind of deserve to understand why all this stuff happened to her. Besides, on the off chance that she doesn’t completely despise us all if we tell her, she could be a huge help in the research department. Lydia is like crazy smart. If you get her on board, you won’t even need me anymore.” Stiles winced at his own words.

“Shut up.” was the affectionate, but firm reply. Derek clearly didn’t want to hear any more, but when Stiles tried to leave he grabbed his arm, gripping Stiles’ wrist in one of his warm hands. “Hey, what was up with that perfume thing? Even I didn’t know what that was.”

Stiles’ face went hot, but he just took another drink and smiled. Maybe if he pretended he wasn’t such a stalker, he wouldn’t sound so much like Peter. “Well, being infatuated with her for eight years had some interesting side effects. Plus, I bought her that perfume for her birthday.”

Blissfully, Derek just laughed and threw an arm over his shoulder. It was a compromise between being in Stiles’ space, and looking a little more like a normal human. It was also really comfortable and made Stiles feel safe by shrouding him in the sandalwood scent that hung on Derek just  _ that _ much too closely for Stiles to be able to smell it the rest of the time, but he didn’t need to mention that.

Once they got past Derek’s reservations and Lydia’s near interrogation, she started coming over too. Erica was excited to have another girl to talk to, and Stiles had been right about her helping with research.  They worked through all of Derek’s old books in less than a month. Also, it was nice to have another human in the pack. It made Stiles feel a bit less fragile in the face of all the superhuman healing and strength and everything else.

Lydia took control of most of the decorating, and the whole pack ended up going along on her shopping trips. Derek, Boyd, and Scott carried things, Erica and Isaac helped with colors, and Stiles was...well to be honest, Stiles was emotional support for everyone else when they started getting frustrated. He might have been desensitised to Lydia’s five hour long shopping sprees, but the rest of the pack started showing teeth after the second hour, and it was Stiles’ job to entertain them.

It was worth it, in Stiles’ opinion. The house was soon fully furnished and actually stylish, which meant that Derek could finally relax with his pack in  _ their _ space. No adult humans to worry about upsetting, just Stiles scolding when they got too rowdy and making them dinner when they stayed late. 

It was the start of a comfortable new routine that was thrown out the window almost the same day school started.

For one thing, Allison was back from her summer vacation in France. Stiles had actually managed to forget about her imminent arrival because at some point over the summer, Scott had stopped talking about her. It felt healthy, good even, that Scott was so interested in pack bonding and working on making himself better and taking all those summer classes so he didn’t have to stay back a grade, Stiles hadn’t wanted to bring it up right away, and then he’d forgotten to.

Lydia was the one who told them, mentioning casually after a movie night that she was going to hang out with Allison before classes started, even taking her on a “group outing.” The special phrasing wasn’t lost on Stiles, nor Scott, going by the small blush that traveled up his face in the low light of the living room. At that moment, he was tucked under Isaac’s arm, and had been for the entirety of  _ Captain America: The First Avenger _ , but at the mention of Allison he began to pull away. He didn’t get far though, and it was actually Derek who stopped him with a hand on his free shoulder, pushing him back into Isaac softly and mumbling, “You’re alright.”

The two of them didn’t do a lot of talking, choosing instead to share comforting bro touches like what Scott had with Stiles for so long. It worked for them, and Derek usually ended up looking like an older brother to Scott. It did the impulsive Beta a world of good sometimes, and only egged him on others.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter, finally working with some canon now. Let me know what you think of my adaptation.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, I'm just borrowing some lines for a love story.

The next night, to distract Scott from the sudden burst of moping he’d dropped into, Stiles agreed to go with him to get a tattoo. Stiles thought it would be more fun if the whole pack was there, but Scott mentioned wanting one on one time with Stiles and how could he resist?

“You’re always taking care of us now, dude.” Scott pointed out, digging for something to do on the ride to the tattoo parlor.

Stiles reached into the glovebox without looking away from the road and handed Scott a puzzle cube he’d stashed there for this exact reason. “What do you mean?” he asked.

When Scott didn’t answer right away, Stiles looked at him. He was holding up the cube and pointing at it. Oh.

“Whatever, I just know how to make you less annoying on car rides.”

But Scott shook his head, even as he started tinkering with the cube. The whole pack had gotten surprisingly good at them, so Stiles had picked up a Level 3 cube at the game store. It should keep everyone busy for a while. “Not just me, and totally not just this. You’re my best friend, but now it’s like you’re also kind of my mom. It’s weird, but not actually that bad.”

Stiles was nothing like Melissa, could never compare to her, and he was about to say so when Scott cut him off, reading his mind. “No, dude, I don’t mean you’re like my  _ actual _ mom. You just, take care of me, and the rest of the pack.”

“I don’t see it.” All he did was hang out with them, nothing special.

Scott kept pushing. “Come on, you totally do! You know everything about us now. Like, what’re our GPA’s?”

He didn’t even have to think about it, reciting them from memory. “3.0, 3.85, 3.6, 5.0, and 3.2. That’s for Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Lydia, and you, respectively. Which by the way, I’m super proud of you bro, you  _ rocked _ those summer classes.” Ending the school year with a 1.7 GPA, Scott was doomed to repeat Sophomore year, but he’d gotten his shit together and retaken as many summer classes as he could. It was a highlight of Stiles’ life, seeing Scott ace a chemistry exam given to him by a very unhappy Mr. Harris.

“See? Nobody else knows that. You’re the reason the rest of the pack even took summer school classes, to fix everyone’s grades, and you’ve been helping them with their homework every week! You know all our blood types, and our favourite foods, and you cook for us at least three times a week. You drop everything whenever we call, and it’s just another point on my list that we  _ call _ . Everyone in the pack feels safe getting ahold of you when they need something.” Scott was trying to make a point, Stiles could tell, but he had no idea what that point was. Sure he helped out some, but what did that matter?

When they pulled up in the parking lot of the parlor, Stiles turned off the engine and shifted to look at Scott. “You realize Derek knows all that stuff too, right? You guys don’t give him enough credit, considering he cooks the rest of the week. Besides, when you call me, it’s usually because I’m with Derek.”

“Yeah. You are.” Now Scott was raising his eyebrows, and seriously, what was Stiles missing?

He shook his head and put his hands up. “What do you want from me, Scott?”

Scott just sighed and turned around in his seat to look right at Stiles. He clasped his hands together and used his combined pointer fingers to jab at the air in front of Stiles. “Stiles, I think you’re Pack Mom.”

He couldn’t help it, he started laughing. “Oh my god, what? What the hell is that?” he gasped. All Stiles could picture was a werewolf in an apron with curlers in their hair and he was having trouble breathing from the sheer glee of that image. “Jesus, Scott. Warn a guy next time!”

It was a cute idea, he’d give Scott that. Maybe sometimes he toed the line between friendship and parenting, but pretty much everyone in the pack was lacking a little bit of parental love, and Stiles had plenty to give. Whatever a Pack Mom was, maybe Scott just made it up, it almost sounded fitting for what Stiles did.

Stiles was still chuckling when they went in for the tattoo, but that faded almost as soon as it started. How many times did he have to tell the pack that just because they had super healing, didn’t mean they had an actual tolerance to pain? Derek was a bit of an exception, and Stiles was kind of afraid to find out why. He worried it had something to do with the time Scott had found Derek chained up and being electrocuted in his own basement, but until Derek wanted to talk about it, Stiles was gonna keep his mouth shut.

Of course the tattoo healed. Stiles should’ve seen that coming. He would’ve felt more guilty about not knowing, but the look on Scott’s face was priceless.

Scott was the one to bring up Allison. As they talked about it on the drive to Scott’s, Stiles tried not to pry, but after three months of watching Scott get closer and closer to Isaac, he couldn’t help asking, “Are you still, you know, interested in her?”

“I don’t...think so? It’s like, there’s still this ache whenever I think about her, but I kind of...Well, you know, I’m happy with what I have now. With Isaac. I just wish I could talk to her and explain everything.”

They pulled up to a stoplight that honestly had no purpose on the dark road, and Stiles caught a view of strawberry hair in the car stopped beside them. Lydia, and sitting in the passenger seat, Allison. “Well, here’s your chance,” he announced.

He had to point to get the idea across, but when Scott looked over Stiles watched him freeze. Yeah, Stiles was pretty sure he still had feelings for Allison, even if they were closer to Stiles’ own feelings for Lydia now. The poor wolf had a good long stare, until Allison saw him.

It was kind of hilarious, however bad he felt for Scott, the way his best friend ducked down in the seat and starting swearing. For his part, Stiles waved at Lydia, who was apparently dealing with a similar situation. She waved back, and Stiles took a moment to appreciate the friendship he had with her that meant she actually acknowledged his existence in public.

“Stiles, go, drive!” Scott hissed. He looked like he was trying to melt into the seat, but the shape and size of the jeep meant his head was still clearly visible in the window. 

Pointing at the light, Stiles answered, “It’s red. I can’t go on red. Dude, you should just try talking to her. You said that’s what you wanted!”

“Not now! Stiles, come on!”

But Stiles had made a strict promise to his dad that he’d try obeying traffic laws for once. He was still 17, and everything would be expunged once he turned 18, but he didn’t need anything else added to his record. Especially not stupid traffic violations.

Before Stiles could roll down the window and force them to talk, Lydia gave him an apologetic look and slammed on the gas, driving right through the red light.

Just to make them all look a little more ridiculous, the light changed almost immediately. Stiles started moving again, only for Scott to get upset.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m driving?”

“We’re right behind them!”

“Okay, well do you see any turns?” The road was empty, trees on either side, no turns in sight.

Scott stuttered a little. “I-I don’t want it to look like we’re following them.”

“Well what do you want me to do?” Stiles asked. There weren’t a lot of options here.

“I don’t know! Anything!”

So Stiles slammed on the brakes and stopped in the middle of the road. Once the girls got far enough ahead, they could keep going. It was that, or start a road race with them. Only, the girls stopped too, less than a hundred feet in front of them.

As they watched, glass exploded up from the front of Lydia’s car, and the screams from inside could be heard by even Stiles. They slammed their way out of the Jeep and Stiles ran for the drivers side. Lydia was pack.

He was holding her before she’d even managed to climb out of the car all the way. Questioning rapidly, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Lydia, talk to me.” 

She shook her head against his chest, and he tugged a piece of glass from her hair. “No to which one?”

“It came out of nowhere, it ran right into us.” Lydia insisted. She wasn’t answering his questions, so Stiles pulled her away from him and took a good look. No scratches, no bruises, just a couple stray tears. He could work with that.

Beside them, Scott and Allison were quick to catch up, and Scott went over to the front of the car while they watched. It was instinct to hold out an arm to Allison after Stiles had Lydia tucked against his side, and when she gave him a strange look he was almost confused, until he remembered she’d been in France the whole summer. She wasn’t pack, and therefore wouldn’t want the comfort he normally provided.

After Scott confirmed that the deer that had smashed its way through the front windshield of Lydia’s car was acting out of fear, and not fury, Stiles took everyone home.

Holding Lydia’s hand as she sat behind him was natural, and normal for the pack. Lydia had taken no time at all to integrate herself with the rest of the werewolves, and Stiles loved how comfortable she was with the tactile nature he and the pack had developed. They took care of each other. So he stuck his right hand behind his seat and let her take it. He’d have asked her to sit up front so he could keep an eye on her, but it would have put Scott in an awkward position, so he did the best he could.

Scott kept himself in the seat, not reaching out the way he normally would have. Stiles could understand that. If he’d stuck his hand back as well, it might look like he was reaching for Allison, and that was a situation they needed desperately to avoid. Scott was going to have to start walking a fine line between being close to Allison, and not jeopardizing his relationship with Isaac.

Only, Allison seemed entirely focused on the connection between Stiles and Lydia, which, now that they weren’t in a frightening situation, Stiles could see looked a bit weird. After all, he and Lydia were the opposite of a thing the year before, and outside of pack, holding hands had normal, everyday connotations. He couldn’t think of how to explain what was going on, so Stiles just stayed quiet.

Well, quiet on that subject. On the subject of frantic deer commiting suicide by car, he did not shut up. Scott didn’t even have to ask, but he did anyway. “I know school starts tomorrow, but—”

“Yeah, I’ll do what I can. Lydia, don’t worry about it okay? Just go to sleep when you get home.”

He could see Lydia nod in the rearview, absently tapping away at her phone with her free hand. A good sign, she was probably cancelling on whoever she and Allison were going to meet with. Or setting up a more private date.

It was no secret in the pack that Lydia was coping with the loss of Jackson in a very...sexual way. Even if she’d tried to hide it, the wolves would have been able to smell a different guy on her every other week. They didn’t really talk about it: it was no one’s business. As long as she didn’t miss pack movie nights, Stiles didn’t particularly care. And wasn’t that a first?

Scott walked Lydia to the door, making up for his lack of comforting in the car by wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her a hug at the front step. They talked quietly with each other, probably Scott checking up on her with his werewolf senses. It was always nice to see the pack being close with each other, and Stiles watched them happily from his seat until Allison poked his arm.

“Um, Stiles. What’s up with you guys?” she asked, not even looking at him and instead staring at Scott.

Stiles wasn’t actually sure how to respond. Of course he didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about Scott and Lydia, but he also didn’t want to give Allison false hope. She wasn’t pack, but she was a friend. So he played dumb for a moment, wanting to judge her reaction. “What do you mean?”

Allison finally blinked at him and tucked a brown curl behind her ear. “Well, you and Scott are kind of...you seem to be a lot closer to Lydia than I thought you guys were.”

The instinctive response jumped out. “She’s pack.”

Pack was like family, only sometimes even more close. After all, they chose each other. As hard as it had been for Stiles to accept that Erica and Boyd and Isaac had all  _ chosen _ the bite Derek had offered, they’d settled into being werewolves so naturally it honestly seemed like it was the best option for them now. It gave them all exactly what Derek had promised it would. Erica had her health and confidence and strength, Boyd had a family and friends and somewhere he felt like he could truly belong, and Isaac had his safety and the caring atmosphere he fucking  _ deserved _ dammit. Out of them all, Scott was the one who would have been the most okay if he hadn’t been bitten, but it still gave him self-confidence that Stiles had never seen in him before that first Monday after the full moon. The way he’d nearly pranced around the field, completely sure he could take anything that came for him, made Stiles love him all the more. It’d taken time, and some seriously awful situations, but they were exactly where they needed to be now. Together.

Allison took his answer in a completely different direction. “Oh my god, did Derek bite you and Lydia too? You guys are werewolves now?”

“No! No way. Lydia can’t even become a werewolf, remember? She’s immune. I just meant, she’s family,” he clarified. It was so much harder to explain to—Stiles paused his own thoughts, shaking his head a little and trying not to laugh. He’d been about to think  _ to a human _ .

While it was impossible to actually forget he was human, and so was Lydia, it was surprisingly easy to accidentally think of himself as a werewolf. Maybe a half werewolf? There was just this feeling that came with being part of the pack, one that he knew Lydia shared because he’d straight up asked her about it one day. He was more aware, every day, of everything. Whatever the Betas were feeling, or Derek was grumbling about, or Lydia had pride in, it all meant more to him than it probably should have.

They picked up a lot of wolflike behaviors, the touching being just the most obvious. There was also the instinct to smell things and people, and to rub a palm or finger against things they wanted to claim as their own. Part of it was because that was just the best way to communicate those things to the rest of the pack, but the rest was just because it felt right. Lydia had even stopped wearing perfume, claiming it just smelled too fake now.

His reassurance didn’t do much for Allison, but she leaned back against the old seat and gave up the questioning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! Another chapter! I'm really glad I took that week off inbetween fics so I could get some chapter prepared for this. Really helps with the flow of things.
> 
> Disclaimer again: I'm using some lines from the show, but I promise, it doesn't belong to me, I'm just borrowing it for a love story.

Going to school was the last thing on Stiles’ mind the next morning, as he’d spent half the night researching animal versus car attacks. It was a lot harder to find instances where animals had thrown themselves at vehicles, rather than just gotten caught crossing a road. He thought he was finally getting somewhere after waking up at six in the morning to get back to work, but the next thing he knew his dad was standing behind him, grumbling about going to class.

“I’m not gonna beg you.”

Stiles snorted a little, “Okay, good. I’m impervious to your influence anyway.”

“Would you consider a bribe?”

“You couldn’t meet my price.” After this long, Stiles had standards for bribes. Especially from his dad.

“Extortion?”

“You have nothing on me.” A bit of a lie, but he certainly had nothing any of Stiles’ friends would actually be surprised by.

Then Stiles’ chair was being slowly dragged backwards, and the distance he had to reach to tap on the keyboard of his laptop was getting wider. “Dad, what are you doing? Dad! What are you—” The reach was too much, and Stiles collapsed onto his carpeted floor, face first.

“Ow. You’d better go get me a poptart.”

So Stiles ended up at school anyway. It was just as boring as he remembered, but he dutifully forged the sheriff’s signature on all the take home papers and class syllabi and scribbled down the readings. It was Scott’s idea, that he actually try using an agenda so he could keep track of assignments.

It wasn’t that they were ever very hard, he just couldn’t remember they were required until he was supposed to turn them in. ADHD did that to a person.

During their second class of the day, English, Stiles’ phone buzzed. His first instinct was that it would be Derek, since the rest of the pack was in school, but then everyone else’s phones dinged and buzzed and rang off too.

It was the last line of “Heart of Darkness”, and Stiles was both impressed and confused as to why anyone would bother mass texting a bunch of high school students something so benign. Then a voice began to read it out loud, and Stiles looked up to see their teacher with a phone in her hand. Wait, how did she get their numbers?

No explanation was offered, just a warning about using their phones in class, and Stiles found he actually respected that about her. So he stuck his phone in his pocket, where he could feel if it buzzed again. Hey, he loved the rules as much as anyone, but the world he lived in didn’t make time for missed phone calls. At least he didn’t leave it out on his desk.

He saw Allison pass Scott a note, but they couldn’t exactly have a conversation about it, so he tried to think happy thoughts. Surely this wouldn’t turn into a whole problem, right?

They were writing responses to reading questions from the textbook, and as per usual, Stiles’ thoughts started to wander. They didn’t get too far before catching on the deer attack.

It rubbed Stiles the wrong way. In truth, he’d been waiting for something like this to happen for the last three months. The Alpha Pack never left his mind for long, and this felt like an omen. They hadn’t tried looking for the Alpha Pack all summer, especially after Erica and Boyd reported what they knew. It was a rival pack, one that Derek knew about and honestly seemed frightened of, so rather than putting his newly knitted pack in immediate danger, he’d agreed with Stiles’ suggestion that they let the Alphas do all the work and come to them.

He’d called Derek as soon as Scott was out of the car the night before, but Derek could only agree that it was suspicious. Not enough to prove the Alphas were finally making their move, just enough to put Stiles on edge. The next step was to talk to Deaton, but Stiles could do that at his normal meeting.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Stiles spent an hour and a half in the Vet clinic, usually while Scott was working. It gave Scott the chance to hang out with Stiles, and Deaton the chance to teach Stiles properly, without any serious interruptions. Emissary training was no small thing, and Stiles wasn’t eager to mess it up.

It was his own fault, Stiles reasoned. If he hadn’t gotten so trigger happy about using those runes, they never would have discovered he was a Spark and then he wouldn’t be stuck with Mr. Cryptic all the time. He even got homework: readings, and runes to practice, and sometimes even just preparing herbs and supplies for storage. The readings were the most boring part, but Stiles had the unpleasant feeling they were also the most important. Some of the books he was given were on magic, which was  _ awesome _ , but the majority were about diplomacy. Specifically, supernatural diplomacy.

As future Emissary of the Hale Pack, it was going to be Stiles’ job to communicate with other packs and supernatural creatures of all kinds, on behalf of or with Derek. His magic abilities made him the perfect choice, Deaton said, and the rest of the pack hadn’t argued at all. Even Derek had looked at Stiles with that same vaguely proud face as he’d had the day they’d discovered Stiles’ magic and promised to let Stiles practice etiquette with him.

It almost made it worth it, rehearsing greetings and body language and titles with Derek. The pack liked to join in, but they always ended up losing their cool when Stiles referred to Derek as Alpha Hale. It didn’t help that after Derek spent so much time crowding Stiles to help keep him calm and relaxed, Stiles didn’t have a concept of personal space with Derek either. He always stood too close or reached out for him when he was supposed to maintain distance. At least Derek seemed to find it funny, rather than annoying.

Stiles actually shook his head, trying to bring his thoughts back to whatever it was he was supposed to be focusing on, but as the classroom came back into view, his eyes froze on a bandage wrapped around Lydia’s ankle where she sat in the desk next to him.

“Hey, Lydia.” His whisper felt terribly loud in the classroom, but only Scott glanced over. 

Lydia lifted her head from her notebook and squinted at him. “What?” she mouthed.

“Is that from the accident?” Stiles pointed down at her ankle. It didn’t look like a large injury, but if she’d been hurt, why didn’t she tell him?

But Lydia shook her head. “No,” she whispered, just as quietly, “Prada bit me.”

What? “Your dog?” The tiny fluffball was a bit yippy, but it never seemed aggressive when Lydia brought him over to pack meetings, though that might have just been a side effect of being surrounded by werewolves. Most dogs became a bit more docile around them.

“No, my designer handbag.  _ Yes _ , my dog.” She didn’t really look like she wanted to have this conversation, but Stiles was getting another hit of the bad feeling that’d been following him around.

Leaning over a little, he touched her elbow. “Why didn’t you tell us before?” It had to have happened sometime after movie night on Saturday, but that wouldn’t have stopped her from calling him.

Before Lydia could reply, Scott jumped in. “Has it ever happened before?” He sounded protective, but Stiles was curious for another reason.

Sucking in her bottom lip, Lydia shook her head again. She let some of her everyday mask fall and when she looked at Stiles again she was scared. “No. Never.”

“So what if it’s like the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?”

“Meaning what? There’s gonna be an earthquake?”

“Or something.” He dropped as much intonation into the last word as he could, and from the way Lydia and Scott’s faces both tightened, they understood he meant something supernatural. “Maybe it means  _ something _ is coming.  _ Something _ that we’ve been waiting for.” He couldn’t exactly say “Alpha Pack” out loud.

For a moment it looked like he’d convinced them, but then Lydia tapped her pencil against her notebook and sighed. “It was a deer and a dog, Stiles. What’s that thing you say about threes? Once, twice-”

A black shape slammed into the window behind Lydia’s head, leaving behind a streak of blood as it slipped off the glass. Stiles jumped hard, and the rest of the class turned to watch as well. Even Ms. Blake put down her chalk and walked over to look out the window.

Outside, a whole murder of crows was heading in the direction of the school. There was none of the grace that Stiles was used to seeing in birds, no formation to be seen. Just chaotic flapping, and when they were close enough, the cawing and screeching of at least a hundred crows.

They were so close now, and Stiles felt that awful feeling again. Just as another crow crashed against the glass, he shouted, “Everyone get down!”

After everything that’d happened, all the threats and deaths, the Beacon Hills students were easily swayed. Even though Stiles held absolutely zero respect from his peers, they still obeyed instantly. Everyone slid to the ground except the professor, and after a moment the windows began to shatter from the force of the birds throwing themselves into it. Those that survived shot into the room and either crashed onto the desks or the students next to the desks, or continued their dive into the far wall. There were screams, and as Stiles crawled over to Lydia’s side he saw the professor pull some nearby students to the space under her desk and shove them in.

Lydia was kneeling beside her desk, shaking, when Stiles reached her, and he wrapped himself over top of her just in time to catch a crow’s talons in the back of his shirt. Clearly they weren’t trying to be vicious, but the birds that couldn’t find death on their way into the room were clawing at long hair and nosediving into the floor and other students. More talons raked down Stiles’ arm, but he yanked away and let the dying bird fall onto the tile next to him.

They waited, Stiles holding Lydia under himself and tucking her hair against his shirt where it couldn’t get pulled. He kept his eyes closed for the most part, hoping to avoid a bird to the face, but when he chanced a peek he saw Scott doing the same for Allison. Their eyes met, and Scott’s were a golden sheen. His friend was keeping his cool, but just barely.

It said a lot about how bizarre Beacon Hills had gotten over the last year that when everything finally settled down, the students calmly began pulling out their phones and texting family members before taking seats and waiting for the cops. Lydia and Allison were both fine, but Scott had a deep gash in his arm that Stiles helped him cover up until it healed, and Stiles himself had lots of tiny scratches on his back and arms. There was even a cut just above his hairline, and it dripped a little blood down the side of his face. When Scott gave him a relieved hug, Stiles could feel some of the sting leeching away, and he patted his friend on the back. Scott knew he couldn’t heal Stiles, but he used his wolfy powers to suck the pain away as best he could whenever Stiles managed to hurt himself.

Once he was sure no one in the class was too badly hurt, Stiles did what was natural. He texted his dad to let him know what had happened, then he texted Derek. Lydia had been right. Sets of three meant this was no longer a coincidence they could ignore.

_ You know how you said we should wait for more evidence? -S _

_ Yes. -D _

_ It basically just dropped into my lap, only with more broken glass and death. -S _

_ Are you okay? -D _

_ Yeah, yeah, the kids are fine. Meet us at Deaton’s after school? -S _

_ Yup. -D _

Stiles grinned at his phone. Only Derek could make using such a casual word feel like an accomplishment. Derek had given up yelling at Stiles about calling the Betas ‘the kids’ ages ago, and the Betas themselves had never minded in the first place. Well, maybe Boyd did.

“What does Derek say?” asked Scott, sidling up to Stiles and sitting on the top of a desk.

Sometimes Stiles worried that werewolves had mind reading powers and that they were all just  _ really _ good at hiding it from him. “He’s going to meet us at Deaton’s today. How’d you know I was talking to him?”

Scott shrugged. “Lucky guess. I mean, I’m assuming you already talked to your dad, since he was probably already on his way here, and I know you would text Derek before you let Erica, Boyd, and Isaac know what’s going on. None of the Betas have gotten ahold of me to interrogate me, so you haven’t talked to them yet. Hence, you’re talking to Derek.”

For a moment Stiles just stared. “You scare me sometimes, you know that, right?”

When the Sheriff arrived with paramedics, Stiles just waved and left him to his work. He wasn’t hurt enough to warrant much attention other than a quick swipe of antiseptic in case the birds had something bad on their feet, and his dad could always get his statement last. Instead he replied to a couple messages from Erica, asking for details.

A small sniffle had him lifting his head. Ms. Blake was staring off into the distance with tears in her eyes. There were a bunch of cuts on her face, and her face was the depressingly blank image Stiles had come to see on way too many traumatized people. Leaning over, he tried to get her attention. “Ms. Blake?”

As soon as she looked at him, Stiles realized he had no idea what to say and this was probably one of his worse ideas. He began to shake his head, shrugging and huffing to dispel her attention. What exactly was he supposed to say to a full grown woman about nature going crazy? His eyes caught on a black feather sticking out of the teacher’s curls, so naturally, he reached into her space and pulled it out, dropping it on the floor. She didn’t look particularly grateful.

Stiles retreated to the desk again, pretending to check more messages even though he’d already told the Betas he’d fill them in properly after his class was released. How did people ever recover from uncomfortable situations before there were smartphones?

Watching his dad try to question Mr. Argent was so awkward Stiles wanted to leave the room just to deal with the secondhand embarrassment. Allison’s dad was too defensive, then too offensive, and the Sheriff was just doing his best, okay? Scott was keeping his distance, but he still shot Stiles a look that said he understood exactly what he was going through. Good old Scott. He might be too empathetic for his own good sometimes, but other times he made things just that much easier.

It was Lydia’s idea that Scott and Stiles walk her and Allison to their lockers. Lydia’d been present and horrified by every example of animals gone berserk, so she filled Stiles in on Prada’s outburst as she fixed her hair and makeup in her mirror. It was like watching a mask come on. Each stray hair that Lydia pushed back into place made her that much more calm, and soon she was back to her chirpy self.

Suddenly Chris Argent showed up. Stiles’d thought he left after checking in on Allison, but apparently he’d just gone to the office and demanded to take Allison and Lydia home. The glare he levelled on Scott was poisonous and too overzealous for the situation. It wasn’t like Scott was the one who’d made the crows attack! No, that was just Beacon Hills’ fault. Everything in the stupid town went to hell as soon as Peter recovered from his full body paralysis after the fire. Or maybe it’d gone to hell before that, when Kate burned down the Hale home. Maybe it was even before that. All Stiles knew was that this town was probably cursed or something, and it was in everyone’s best interest to just desert the place. Not that anyone listened to him.

Scott and Stiles got no such permission to leave, so they finished out their classes impatiently. Over lunch they met up with the Betas and Stiles explained his theory about the animal attacks being omens. They didn’t seem to believe him until he pointed out Derek was on his side. The fastest way to get any of the Betas except Scott to listen to him was to tell them he had Derek backing him up. Unfortunately, they always knew when he was lying, and Derek almost never backed up his weird ideas.

They’d barely reached the Jeep with the Betas after school, and Boyd and Isaac were piling into the backseat when Stiles’ phone rang.

“Where are you?” Derek’s voice was tense, but not quite the snapping anger that meant there was danger.

Stiles shifted the phone to his shoulder and shoved the seat into place, earning a tiny death glare from Isaac. Sticking his tongue out for a moment, Stiles replied. “I’m trying to fit three freaking werewolves into one car. We’ll be at Deaton’s soon.”

Erica’d gotten into the passenger seat, but before Stiles could get in the car, Derek snarled. “Walk away from the Betas for a second.”

Scuffing his feet on the asphalt, Stiles obligingly wandered over to a crowded area of teenagers to block out the Betas hearing. “What’s up, Sourwolf?”

“If you ever tell the Betas I said this out loud, I’ll kill you, but you were right.”

“That’s it? Listen, not that I’m not extremely proud of your oh so humble, yet deadly, admission, but I had to leave them alone in my car!” Stiles kicked uselessly at the ground and then rose onto his toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the jeep over the heads of students. It wasn’t in pieces, at least.

Derek gave him a huff, but it sounded a bit less like he was going to crush the phone. “Stiles, just get the hell over to Deaton’s. We have a situation.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first hint at an actual plot, but I'm just gonna warn you guys that this is a Very slow paced fic. I need time to get all my slice of life bits in there, and I refuse to skip over them.

Thank god Scott had a motorbike, because three werewolves in one tiny jeep was not a great combination and Stiles only had so many puzzles for them to entertain themselves with. They pulled up to the animal clinic with Taylor Swift blaring on the radio, how that didn’t hurt the Beta’s ears Stiles would never understand, and the wolves practically bounced out of the confined space. They were laughing about something and Stiles was feeling pretty pleased with himself for getting them there in one piece, but the atmosphere shifted as soon as the Betas got within ten feet of the front door.

Isaac’s sentence dropped off midway, and the rest of them went vibratingly tense. It was useless to ask what was happening, as Erica, Boyd, and Isaac all looked to be fighting their shifts, so Stiles let them crowd around him and enter the waiting room first. There was no one there, but just as Stiles felt the wolves relax, Derek appeared behind the counter.

“Stiles, come on.” He gestured to the lift away countertop that Stiles knew was built from ashwood.

Werewolves couldn’t pass or adjust activated mountain ash, so Stiles pushed his way through the Betas and flipped it up to make an opening for them to get in. Rather than leaving him behind, they all waited until he’d closed it again, and then Derek shepherded him into the back room in front of them.

Logically, Stiles knew that Deaton’s clinic was one of the safest places in town, besides the pack house. It was impeccably clean, the granite flooring was firm under Stiles’ feet, and he knew first hand that nearly every inch of the place was covered in protective runes and stuffed with magical herbs to promote healing and peace. And yet, he still had to suppress a shiver at the medicinal scent of the space, and there was always discomfort in placing his entire pack into Deaton’s hands.

They didn’t know much about him, just what he mentioned, and he always seemed to be a few steps ahead of everyone else in a decidedly unnerving way. He was a good teacher and had been kind to them so far, but Stiles wasn’t feeling a whole lot of trust for the man. Especially when he entered the examination room to find the table had been replaced by a semicircle of chairs. Scott was sitting in one of them, and an unknown woman was in another.

He was projecting his anxieties, Stiles realized, making the rest of the pack just as nervous and causing Derek to press against his side. Taking a few deep breaths, Stiles sat next to Scott and let the rest of the pack fill the space. If Scott wasn’t freaking and Derek wasn’t fighting, Stiles could stay calm.

Trying to make a gesture of relaxation, Stiles leaned back in his chair. The press of his torn shirt stung on the scratches from the crows and he nearly jumped forward, hissing a little. Before Scott could restore the pain leeching contact from earlier, a warm hand rested on his bicep.

Derek was sitting next to him, leaning close, and suddenly Stiles was feeling a little warm. He wasn’t  _ that _ badly hurt, and the touch felt a bit more intimate than usual, but it wasn’t like it was uncomfortable. Just unusual, especially in front of a stranger.

Speaking of, “Who are you?”

The woman reminded Stiles of Lydia, beautiful and composed, but also capable of ripping you apart. Though, in this case, Stiles thought the woman would probably use the knives that were currently missing from their sheaths on her calves. There was also an empty gun holster strapped to her jeans, and she looked extremely unhappy about the lack of protection. Deaton must’ve made her give them up.

She reminded Stiles of Derek, before he’d gotten to know him. Dark and mysterious, with long brown hair and plush lips and a grimace that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the Sourwolf sitting next to him.

But he  _ knew _ Derek, and he  _ knew _ Lydia. This woman he had no clue about. To settle his nerves, Stiles leaned infinitesimally closer to the Alpha and was grateful when Derek dropped his arm over Stiles’ shoulder.

Apparently unimpressed with the appearance of more wolves, the woman leaned back in her chair and studied the pack as she introduced herself. “My name is Braeden. I’m here as a messenger from the Walker Pack in the next town over. Something to do with a pack of Alphas running around causing problems.” Her eyes paused on Derek, and Stiles watched her scan him from head to toe. It was a look the Alpha got a lot from both men and women. Stiles hated how it made Derek tense.

“It’s Derek, right?”

Something in Stiles twanged painfully, and he stood up, filling her vision and blocking Derek from her. “No,” he cut in. “While you’re here on pack business, you can call him Alpha Hale.” The words just escaped, but when Stiles glanced over at Deaton, the vet was nodding proudly at him. Right, this was exactly the kind of situation he was supposed to be in charge of. It was his job not to let others make a fool out of his pack: only a fool Alpha would let even a messenger from another pack call them by their first name. It was a sign of familiarity that couldn’t be afforded to strangers. Chapter 3 of his diplomacy book said so.

Unfortunately he’d skipped right over Chapter 1, so he remedied the fact by sticking out a hand and stepping back a little to give Braeden space. “Call me Emissary Hale.” It wasn’t an invitation, it was a command, and Stiles was a little proud of the smile he earned from Deaton. He also ignored the tiny snicker that Erica let out on his left.

The pack had found it hilarious for some reason that Stiles was supposed to call himself a Hale during Emissary duties, but it made perfect sense to him. His real last name didn’t matter because he was representing the Hale pack. Therefore he was Emissary Hale, not Emissary Stilinski. Yet every time he practiced introducing himself at least one of them cracked. Today it was Erica.

The sudden change in formality startled Braeden, but after a moment she stood as well and gave his hand a firm shake. A bit too firm, but Stiles wasn’t about to fuss: it was nothing compared to the werewolves and their overenthusiastic hugs.

Now that he’d begun the routine he was taught properly, Stiles shifted smoothly into his next task and turned to do introductions.

The order in which he listed the pack was supposed to be a representation of their rank and Stiles had worked it out with the rest of the wolves extensively so no one would be angry. “This is Scott: Alpha Hale’s second, Isaac: Alpha Hale’s adoptive son, and Erica and Boyd are his Betas. Lydia couldn’t be here today.” It was such a ridiculous ranking. Most powerful first, family second, wolves third, and humans last. Emissary or not, Stiles would be at the end of the list if someone else were introducing them.

As he said each of their names, the member in question tilted their head in greeting, playing their parts and letting Stiles play his. It was such a stark difference from their everyday dynamics that Stiles had to hide a smile, especially when Erica winked at him once Braeden’s back was turned.

Now that all the niceties had been put to work, Stiles felt comfortable enough to sit back down. This time he kept his back straight and continued to keep eye contact with Braeden. Were she a wolf he would worry about challenging her, but he knew she was human. Her stance was off, less confident than any unarmed wolf would be. She didn’t have the built in claws and teeth that made fighting so easy to prepare for.

Braeden sat too, mirroring Stiles and smiling. “You know, he wouldn’t let me even introduce myself until you got here.” She nodded slightly in Derek’s direction, but Stiles didn’t take any bait. Now that he’d entered his Emissary persona, his only thoughts were on how to get Braedon off his territory without causing a war.

“I’m Emissary, it’s my job to be here. Why are you here?”

Braeden sighed, drooping back in her chair, and Stiles forced himself to relax a little. Maybe he was being too harsh. After all, she wasn’t a member of the other pack, just a go-between. Keeping the tension out of his voice Stiles tried again, “Can you tell us what the Walker Pack knows of the Alphas?”

His words earned a snort, but Braeden took his olive branch and began to explain. “I only know what they wanted you to know, which isn’t much. Most important being that they’re being held by the Walker Pack. They got a bit too cocky screwing around in the Walker territory, so Alpha Walker put a stop to it.”

“Good.” It was Derek’s first comment since sitting down, and Stiles leaned back to give him the floor. “If the Alpha pack has been stopped, what does the Walker Pack want with us?”

“Nothing, it’s what the Alpha Pack wants. They insist you aren’t capable of controlling your territory anymore, let alone your Betas, so they want them. They’d planned to take them by force, but Alpha Walker said he knew the Hales and he wanted to see for himself if you were competent.” Standing, Braeden held out her hand toward Deaton, who turned to rummage in a bin.

From it he pulled two envelopes and all the weapons Stiles had noticed were missing from Braedon. She took them from him almost gently and moved forward to drop one in Derek’s lap, and one in Scott’s. Then, as she resheathed her knives, she delivered her actual message. “You are hereby summoned to a pack meeting, during which your pack will be evaluated and Alpha Walker and his Emissary will determine whether the Alpha Pack can challenge you for control over Beacon Hills and the connecting Preserve, and for control of your Betas, werewolf or not. If you choose not to attend, you will forfeit your chance to avoid conflict.”

Scott turned the envelope in his hands and frowned in Braeden’s direction. She was shrugging on a coat and nearly out the door when he called. “Why two invitations?”

Braeden didn’t turn around or slow down, just called, “One for each Alpha, of course.”

All eyes in the room turned to Deaton, but Scott didn’t speak for a while. Stiles could only assume he was waiting for Braeden to leave.

“What did she mean, ‘one for each Alpha’?” Scott’s eyes were wide, and he looked more than a little terrified. Stiles couldn’t blame him. After all, before Derek, their only experience with an Alpha was Peter, and that was a living nightmare no one wanted to repeat.

Deaton didn’t seem to pay Scott any mind, choosing instead to tuck the bin back into place on his shelves and begin straightening up some imaginary clutter. Suddenly he spoke, voice just as annoyingly calm and knowledgeable as usual. “Why do you assume I know what she meant? Isn’t it your Emissary’s job to explain these things?”

Scott switched his confused gaze over to Stiles. It wasn’t like he had any clue either! “Stiles?” he asked.

“Hell no, I don’t know anything. Deaton, explain.” How could he push that off on Stiles? If Stiles had known in any way that Scott could even  _ possibly _ become an Alpha he would have done everything in his power to stop it. Scott barely even managed to control himself, let alone a whole pack. Besides, Derek was their Alpha.

Again, Deaton refused to give a proper answer. “Stiles, you should use this as an opportunity to research and either confirm or deny the allegation. But not right now, aren’t there more important things going on?”

“No, there really aren’t! Whatever this meeting is, we can handle it later. Right now, you’re going to tell me what you know. A good Emissary uses their resources, and  _ you _ are my resource. So spill.” It was a much better retort than Stiles was used to coming up with, and he couldn’t resist crossing his arms and leaning back against his chair. He ignored the sting of his cuts in favor of giving Deaton the most smug look he could manage.

Deaton could never argue with logic, so he gave a far too long suffering sigh and looked at Scott. “It’s rare, and we weren’t sure you even were one, but apparently my sister was convinced enough to tell the other pack.”

“You have a sister?” Stiles cut in, temporarily losing his focus. An gentle elbow to the ribs shut him up, and he glared at Derek while Deaton continued.

“As far as we can tell, and that’s not very far, you are what’s called a ‘True Alpha’.”

The words had nowhere near the effect Deaton was going for, considering the dramatic pause he left. The only person who reacted at all was Derek, who tensed so bad he started trembling. It didn’t seem like the rest of the pack had noticed, but Derek leaned heavily against Stiles, muscles bulging like crazy as he crossed his own arms. It was distracting and Stiles had to work very hard not to wrap himself around Derek and squeeze him until he calmed down. The only time he’d ever seen Derek so worked up was after a nightmare.

When he didn’t get the response he wanted, Deaton huffed a little and kept going. “A True Alpha doesn’t need to kill or overcome their pack leader in order to obtain the rank, they’re just born for it. Their leadership abilities are so strong that they become an Alpha by force of will, a lot like the way most magic works, it’s the belief and the need for it to happen that makes it work.”

Scott shook his head wildly and actually backed up against the wall as though he were being threatened. The fear and anger radiating through the room was obvious even to Stiles, but the Betas were itching with it, sprouting claws and standing up to their full heights with glowing eyes. Things were getting out of hand very quickly, and Stiles wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Don’t I get a choice? I don’t want to be an Alpha. I won’t!” When he spoke, Scott didn’t sound anything like the strong, controlled, Beta that Stiles had gotten to meet and help for the last year. He sounded like Scott McCall, a terrified teenager being forced into a world he never asked for, asking Stiles for the cure so he could go out with the girl of his dreams and forget about the horror he’d seen in the woods.

Derek went still, frozen solid against Stiles, whose hands had found their way onto his shoulder and knee. It was the best he could do without calling unnecessary attention to them. They were the only two left sitting, but for once they were invisible to the others.

The stupid veterinarian was just frowning, looking like a disappointed parent as he stared Scott down. “You don’t seem to understand the gift you have. Having a pure enough heart to be a True Alpha is something that happens once in a hundred years, and never before has it happened to a bitten werewolf.” When Scott didn’t suddenly start singing his praises or howling with happy, and it honestly seemed like that was what Deaton expected, he added, “Yes, you get a choice. In a way. Your Alpha form won’t manifest until it’s needed, and if you take an innocent life you’ll lose the ability altogether.”

As Scott calmed, so did the Betas, until the only one still uncomfortable was Derek. He was just as closed off as when they’d first met him, so much so that even Stiles couldn’t understand how he was feeling or what he was thinking.

They left soon after, filing out of the office after Deaton in silence. Stiles was torn between giving Derek space and refusing to let him cut himself off again, so he kept a hand on Derek’s shoulder. Just enough to let Derek know he was there, a light touch that could be shrugged off anytime. Derek didn’t remove it, so Stiles had hope.

It was still the early afternoon, the bright sun and cloudless sky contradicting the severity of everything that’d just happened. Stiles had hoped to bring Scott to a party that night, but even he didn’t have the will for it. Heather had been his friend since they were three, and it hurt to miss her birthday party, but their situation was just too serious to blow off, even for her. He would call her when he got home, to apologize and promise to drop her present off the next day. She went to a different school than him, but he could always take it to her house afterwards.

When Isaac, Erica, and Boyd migrated toward Derek’s car, Stiles patted Derek on the back and made to head to the jeep, only to notice the Betas had caught up with him again. They looked nervous, and when Stiles turned and checked on Derek, his arm was still up, pointing at the jeep. “Message received, Sourwolf.” Maybe Stiles should have less hope.

Stiles took Erica and Boyd to their homes and dropped Isaac off at Scott’s before heading back to his house. He had homework, dinner to get ready for his dad, and probably a bunch of chores he was just forgetting about. Naturally, Stiles ran up to his room after putting a vegetarian pizza in the oven and setting a timer on his phone, and he stuck his nose back in the diplomacy book, starting again at page 1 and reading as voraciously as he could. Now what he said and did actually mattered, and he wasn’t going to screw anything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that you see where I've diverged from canon, what do you think?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter chapter today, but just filled with stereky goodness. <3

If Stiles was honest with himself, he didn’t even notice the window open, or the padding of boots on his carpet. In fact, he was so used to visits through the window he didn’t realize he was no longer alone until the springs on his bed creaked. He immediately dropped the book his was holding above his head onto his face. The aged text was heavy and musty, and when Stiles pulled it off and closed it, he sneezed before spinning his desk chair to look at the intruder.

He knew who it was even without taking in the heavy leather jacket and bushy eyebrows that were Derek’s trademarks. It’d been ages since the Alpha had visited him, ages since he needed to. Stiles spent more time at the pack house than at home recently.

They were alone, and suddenly Stiles couldn’t help remembering that first night in the Hale house. Everything had stunk of blood and ash and antiseptic, and the whole house creaked every time a breeze blew, but it was one of the first real conversations he’d ever had with Derek.

Just like the first time, Stiles waited in silence for Derek to speak. It didn’t take long anymore.

“I’m sorry I left you with the Betas.” 

It was so far from what they needed to talk about, but Stiles let him have it. “I don’t mind. The kids were worried about you though.”

Derek shifted stiffly on the bed, and Stiles took a mental step back. Apparently the kid jokes weren’t okay right now. That was alright, he could work with that.

But Derek spoke, again not about the right thing. “You know, when I asked if you were okay at school, I didn’t mean the kids. They would’ve texted me if something went wrong.”

Even though he knew something significant had just been said, Stiles was finding it really hard to get over Derek calling the Betas “kids”. He’d never joined in the joke before, and suddenly Stiles was imagining a whole world of jokes he could get Derek to take part in. It was going to be amazing.

He was still trying to focus on the rest of the sentence when Derek shook his head. “Anyway. Scott’s an Alpha, a True Alpha. Are you excited?”

“Nah, Scott would never want that. He talks all tough, but he just wants to be part of the team. Being a leader isn’t important to him.” But Stiles could see that the same characteristic would make Scott perfect for the job. Wasn’t that was they always said? Those who don’t want power are the ones who should have it, because they’re less likely to abuse it?

Something about what he said seemed to confuse Derek because he gave Stiles a very small frown and scrunched his eyebrows together. “Wouldn’t you...I mean, I would have thought you’d  _ prefer _ Scott.”

Why would he—?  _ Oh _ . Damn it, Derek. Stiles nearly launched himself off his chair and scrambled over to the bed, sitting on its edge and shifting with one leg crossed so he could get a good look at the pouting werewolf in front of him. “Is that why you went all Sourwolf on us at the clinic? You think if Scott becomes an Alpha then the rest of us will choose him over you?” Derek’s grimace told Stiles all he needed to know, and Stiles immediately threw all his usual self control out the window.

He bounced a little and shifted to his knees just long enough to wrap his arms around Derek’s shoulders and pull him down to the covers on his side. Wrapped around Derek’s back, Stiles very pointedly stuck his face in the hollow of Derek’s neck. It was the same hug he gave Scott after he and Allison had broken up, and his Alpha deserved at  _ least _ the same amount of comfort. “You idiot.” he mumbled.

Stiles indulged himself a little, though he’d never admit it. Not only was Derek the usual cozy warm body temperature of a werewolf, he was also absolutely ripped. Cuddling a 200 pound mass of muscle was surprisingly comfortable, and Stiles spent a good minute just hugging as tightly as his human strength would allow. Best of all, Derek let him.

When Derek finally started fidgeting from the overzealous body contact, Stiles retrieved his octopus limbs and sat up again. At least when Derek stood up he looked less tense, but Stiles had one more thing to say.

“Hey, Sourwolf?”

Derek just paused by the windowsill.

“At the risk of sounding like I’m in a really inappropriate romance novel, um...Look dude, Scott’s my best friend and all, and if he’s an Alpha then I guess that’s cool, but. Fuck, okay,  _ you’re _ my Alpha. Have been since you dragged me to your house to take care of your kids for you.” Stiles’ entire face was burning, and his heart kind of felt like it was going to drive a semi-truck through his chest and kill him in a couple seconds, but Derek didn’t even turn around.

For a second Stiles thought he was just going to leave, but Derek stopped again. He was sitting on the sill now, body half in, half out of Stiles’ room. It had gotten dark while Stiles studied after dinner, and a waning gibbous moon lit up the left side of his body until he glowed.

His eyes were red when he looked back at Stiles, and as they always did, the ruby glow of them made him feel inexplicably secure. Enough that his heart had calmed by the time Derek said, “Thanks, Little Red,” and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I fucking love when Derek opens up to Stiles. I swear, I get high off it. My heart just explodes. Just. YES. Healing. Heart to hearts. Derek learning to Trust and be Open and express FEELINGS. And he's still the grumpy sourwolf I adore. <3  
> Proof, if I do say so myself (and I do), that Derek can use his words, without sounding OOC.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm SO sorry about the late upload. I'm getting married tomorrow and things have been super hectic as a result. Anyways, here you go!

Dropping off Heather’s gift the next day became much more of an affair than Stiles had intended. As he was only making a pitstop on the way to the pack house for a meeting, the Betas were in the jeep with him again. His protesting only seemed to strengthen their resolve as he put the car in park, and when he left the jeep with a wrapped box in hand the wolves followed him all the way up to the front door.

“Guys, seriously, can you please not terrify my very human friend?” The Betas were always touchy-feely with Stiles, but today they were like his own personal static cling monsters, and he did his best to be gentle as he shoved their arms off him. Even Boyd was in his personal space, crowding around his back and breathing on his neck until Stiles felt like he’d just gotten out of a very weirdly specific sauna. “Act human,  _ please _ .”

Grumbling and growling a little, like the children they were, Boyd and Isaac backed up a little. It took another wiggle of his arm to be free of Erica’s slightly too sharp claws, but eventually Stiles felt enough like his own entity to press the doorbell.

His freedom was shortlived, lasting only long enough for Heather’s father to disappear from the door and Heather herself to come around a corner at the end of the hall. Then, without Stiles even feeling them move, he was once again being absorbed into a mass of excitable puppies. Boyd pressed up against his back again, and Isaac and Erica each took hold of one of his arms and  _ attached _ .

As Heather walked up to the door there was an awful lot of sniffing going on, but Stiles ignored it in favor of ripping himself out of their grasp to give his friend a hug. Their parents had been friends, and he’d grown up with her almost like siblings until her family moved to the other end of town and she switched schools, but Stiles liked to think they were still close. After all, she didn’t even know how remarkably uncool Stiles was at his own school, and she still looked at Stiles like he was that lucky 8 year old with the entire Order of Mata Nui Bionicles.

Her hug took him by surprise almost as much as the Betas behavior had. It was much more full body than he’d gone for, and her hands stroked warmly up and down his back for a moment before releasing him. Definitely a bit different than what he was used to, from humans at least, but still nice.

“Happy late Birthday!” he cheered, holding out the bright purple gift.

Heather took it from him politely, but set it on a side table instead of opening it, making Stiles frown a little until she blasted him with a dazzling smile. “Thanks Stiles, I’m really sorry you couldn’t make it last night. I was hoping to do some catching up with you.”

The look she was giving him and his new teenage bodyguard troup was very similar to the one Allison had given him after calling Lydia pack, but Stiles couldn’t find a reason until Isaac huffed smugly. Stiles went to give him a strong  _ What the fuck _ look, only to find his arm had found its way around Isaac’s shoulder, and his hand was buried in blonde curls. Jumping a little, he yanked his hand back down to his side and stuffed it in his pockets. Stupid pack instincts. “Oh, uh. Heather, these are…”

“We’re Stiles’ family.” Erica said, sticking a hand out. “I’m Erica.” The handshake she gave Heather looked far too firm for Stiles’ liking, and he subtly moved his foot over the toe of Erica’s knee high boots and squished down until she dropped the nice human’s hand.

Isaac had better manners, even if he leaned over Stiles like he owned him, but Boyd didn’t even make eye contact. When did they get rude again?

Coughing and burying his hands ever deeper in his pockets to keep himself from doing anything else stupid, Stiles tried to explain. “They’re, um, they’re my cousins. Visiting from out of state. The Polish side, you never got to meet. You know the Polish, very tactile people. But hey, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind  _ waiting by the car _ . Would you guys? Thanks!” With a couple pointed glares, he pushed them backward until they retreated. It wouldn’t keep them from eavesdropping, but at least he could stop feeling so claustrophobic.

Normally the pack knew to leave him some breathing room, if only because Derek had a tendency to separate them from him if Stiles’ heart sped up too much. The fact that they were abandoning those boundaries was disconcerting. Erica’s head was rested on his shoulder, and Isaac and Boyd each had a hand on one of his hips. Stiles knew each spot was used for scent marking, and he felt claimed. It was normally a pleasant experience, but this was just excessive.

At the last second, Erica had to add, “Hurry up though, Derek’s waiting for you.”

Stiles’ smile was tight as he answered, “Won’t be long.”

Alone at last, Heather waved him inside, and Stiles stepped over the threshold, resisting the urge to brush off imaginary furs from his arms. The house hadn’t changed in ages, still the same cream and burnt orange walls covered in picture frames. As he examined one, he noticed some of the pictures of Heather as a kid had been updated to photos of her going to dances at her high school or surrounded by friends at a lake. Things must’ve changed a bit more than he thought.

“So, is Derek another cousin?” Heather was still standing near the door, looking down at the floor and playing with the long sleeves on her yellow shirt.

Stiles choked on air for a moment, remembering what’d happened to his forehead the last time he’d claimed Derek as a relation. Okay, it might’ve been because he’d let Danny ogle Derek’s bare chest, but he still wasn’t going to risk it. “No! No, he’s just uh, he’s Derek.”

“Oh. Anyway, it was really nice of you to bring me a birthday present. Especially since you couldn’t go to my last party either. I know it was a whole year ago, but did you do well on that creative writing paper you were working on? It was something about wolves, wasn’t it?”

_ Shit. _ He had blown her off the year before as well, hadn’t he? It was the day after Scott got bit, and he’d spent the whole night studying and trying to find answers to Scott’s miraculous recovery. “Oh, uh, yeah. I think I did pretty well.” It’d all ended with him having a bigger family than ever before, so Stiles didn’t even feel like he was lying. Much.

Was it just Stiles, or was Heather a lot closer than before? “Maybe we can make up for lost time, sometime? Get coffee, or have a movie night? I’m sure our parents wouldn’t mind.” She was smiling at him, and something about it looked vaguely like the way Derek sometimes smiled at him, but Stiles couldn’t pinpoint it very well because  _ wow _ she was close.

“Uhh, yeah. That’d be cool. I’ll talk to my dad. You know, I don’t think I have your new cell number, since you called me about the party from your house.” Taking the chance to get a bit of breathing space back, Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped in his password.

Just before he could open up his contacts, the phone started buzzing wildly and it surprised Stiles so much he dropped it on the floor. Apparently his ridiculous fingers answered the call, because soon a loud deep voice came out of the speaker.

“Stiles?”

Scrambled wasn’t enough of a description for the way Stiles threw himself to the floor and snatched at the phone, only managing to catch the edge and instead sending it flying down the hall. Frazzled beyond belief, Stiles didn’t stop to think before shouting, “Sourwolf! Heyy, you’re on speakerphone!”

There was an amplified huff, and Derek got his best  _ I totally want to murder you, but I’m hiding it really really well _ voice on as he spoke again. “Take me off, Stiles. You need to get over here already. The  _ kids _ are worried about you.”

Throughout the line Stiles was very badly crawling over to the phone, and as soon as he could wrap his hand around it he stabbed the speaker button and pushed the cell up to his face. “I’m coming! Tsk tsk, Derek. So impatient. I’m kind of talking to someone here. Tell the kids their Al-uhm, al-truistic behavior is appreciated, but totally unnecessary. I’ll be done soon.”

“ _ Stiles _ . I need you here.” 

The bitten off words sent Stiles into distress mode and he dropped all pretense. “Got it. I’m on my way now. E.T.A 10 minutes.”

The call had already ended when Stiles pulled the phone away from his face and stuffed it back in his pocket. Tunnel vision was becoming a bit of a problem when Derek pulled out the “I need” line, and Stiles barely managed a goodbye before throwing open the door and jogging down the walk.

The Betas were already waiting in their seats, grinning at him, at least until they caught a whiff of him. He couldn’t buckle his seatbelt for a full minute because Erica had sat behind him and was pinning his arms to his side as she cuddled him over the seat. When the nerves got to be too much Stiles snapped. “Off! All of you need a serious refresher course in fucking manners! Your Alpha is  _ not _ a Stiles summoning system so don’t ever do that again without an actual emergency.” Everyone jumped back at his outburst, but Stiles hadn’t vented all his frustration yet. His heart was still racing with the need to get to Derek’s side, even though he knew it was under false pretenses. “And don’t think I didn’t notice all that stupid claiming stuff. You’ve fucking ruined me for normal life you know that? I can’t be around humans anymore, congratulations. You’ve turned me into a werewolf without all the fancy powers, so basically, a dog. You happy?”

He didn’t even need the fancy powers to see how much he’d upset the Betas, and as Stiles looked around at them his heart sank. Erica and Boyd were both sitting back against their seats, hands in their laps and staring down at said hands. But poor Isaac, who never did well with anger from authority figures—and for some reason he considered Stiles an authority—was curled up in the corner, staring at Stiles with wild eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Really buddy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” Keeping his hand low, Stiles slowly moved it into the space between him and the Beta in the backseat and stopped midway. Isaac cross the rest of the distance after a second, giving Stiles a tiny smile and squeezing his fingers in forgiveness.

After everything that Isaac had gone through, the last thing Stiles wanted was to bring back any memories, so he blew out a breath and pulled onto the road as calmly as possible.

Even with his small freakout, Stiles still made it to the pack house in 9 minutes. Now that they were dealing with more supernatural situations, traffic laws kind of fell to the background. The entire trip was spent listening to the Betas trying to explain their aversion to Heather.

Erica was the first to recover fully from her scolding, and she leaned gently against the back of Stiles’ seat, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Stiles, didn’t you notice something, oh, I don’t know,  _ off _ about Heather?”

“If you tell me she’s a werewolf or something I’m actually going to just die on the spot. Seriously, am I the only human left in Beacon Hills?”

There was a light smack on his arm and Erica snorted, “No, dumbass. She likes you.”

“What do you mean? Of course she does, we’ve been friends like our whole lives.”

Suddenly the car was filled with giggles, and even Boyd was smirking out the window. Isaac was the worst, actually slapping his hand over his chest. As annoyed as Stiles was about apparently missing the joke, his chest lightened at seeing Isaac so relaxed after he’d scared him.

Still wheezing a little, Isaac dropped forward as best he could in the cramped space. “Scott was so right, you’re fucking blind. You’ve known this girl your whole life and never noticed how into you she was? It was like getting punched in the nose when she came to the door.”

“Just like you couldn’t see it with me, and then with—” Erica cut herself off, and Stiles watched in the rearview mirror as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Wait, wait, with who? Who else?” But the Betas weren’t talking now, so Stiles started guessing. “Isaac? Did you have a thing for me dude? No, wait! Was it Danny? I bet it was Danny! I knew I was attractive to gay guys!”

And alright, Stiles knew he was a comedic genius, but the sheer amount of laughter his comment earned was a little excessive. When he finally realized what they thought was so funny, he couldn’t help snarking, “Hardy Har Har. Look, don’t go around teasing me about Heather liking me. It’s kind of offensive to her, since I’m totally not her type, and it’s no excuse for how pushy you guys were. Just cus’ you’re possessive little shits doesn’t mean you get to be rude to every non-pack member I spend time with.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mom.” It was Isaac’s turn to cover his mouth.

Stiles only groaned. “Don’t tell me Scott got to you with all that pack mom stuff. That weasel.”

Even without wolfy hearing, Stiles sure he heard Isaac mutter something like “Not Scott,” but arguing with a werewolf in a confined space was really high on Stiles’ list of things to do as little as possible.

When they pulled up in front of the pack house, the wolves were off like shots toward the door, leaving Stiles in their literal dust clouds. It was like dropping kids off at soccer, and Stiles was seriously considering making fruit slices to tease them as he entered the living room.

His domestic thoughts flew out the window when he was greeted with a chorus of “MOM!” Followed by hysterical giggles from the rest of the pack, including Lydia, much to his horror. The only person who looked remotely sane was Derek, sitting in his permanently claimed recliner and looking, at best, ready to disown every single wolf in the vicinity.

Desperate to rectify at least one tiny part of the humiliating situation, that somehow was just  _ not  _ as humiliating as it should have been, Stiles threw his hands up. “Why the hell are you all calling me Mom? I’m a dude! If you insist on this stupidity, why don’t I get to be Dad?”

The pack stifled their laughter instantly, and looked to be having staring contests with one another for a few seconds, before the first one broke and looked straight at Derek. It was Isaac, unsurprisingly, and his puppy eyes were enough to snap the rest of them one by one. Erica, then Scott, which just blew Stiles’ mind, followed by Boyd. Lastly, yet possibly the most painful, even Lydia decided to rob Stiles of his manliness by turning to look at the Alpha fuming in his soft brown seat.

Stiles didn’t even want to understand. He just didn’t. Collapsing onto the loveseat next to Lydia, his last resort was mumbling, “I never wanna hear another complaint about me calling one of you ‘kiddo’  _ again _ .” As they often did, Stiles’ words dissipated whatever force was holding the pack static and suddenly everyone was getting comfortable again, moving the day forward.

Apparently Derek and Scott had filled Lydia in while they waited for Stiles to appear, so all that was left was to work out what the hell was actually going on.

Leaning over to snatch Scott’s invitation out of his hand, Stiles tugged the cardstock from the envelope. It was pretty swanky looking, with a fancy font detailing dates, times, and the location of their Hale Pack inspection.

“ _ To the Hale Pack,”  _ Stiles read aloud, “ _ attendance is required of both Alphas, and subsequent mates, to be evaluated in order to determine the stability of the Pack. Lodging will be provided.” _ Shaking his head, Stiles dropped the invitation onto his lap and sighed. “Honestly, this is almost worse than just having to fight someone. I would rather be punching somebody. Seriously. Boyd, can I punch you and see if it fixes things?”

Boyd snorted at him, not deigning to respond, and Erica pouted. “Why do you want to punch Boyd instead of the rest of us?”

“Because Isaac doesn’t deserve it, and out of the rest of you, Boyd’s the least likely to rip me apart. He has standards, and I’m too low on the scale for a beating.” Only with this group would Stiles have to defend  _ not _ wanting to punch someone.

Erica didn’t get a chance to respond before Derek was sucking all the attention in the room to himself, just by leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Can we get down to business?”

“Thank you! First of all, what the hell did they mean by ‘mates’?” The term was just bizarre, and Stiles waited for everyone to join in with his curious stare at Derek. Instead, they all laughed again. Loudly, raucously, infuriatingly. “Seriously guys, and you are never gonna hear this again, I swear, I’m  _ not _ that funny! Why are you all laughing?”

As they registered Stiles’ frustrated state, the giggles died down. Finally, Scott, what a good friend, gave Stiles the equivalent of a brick wall in the way of facial expressions. “Tell me that was a joke, Stiles.”

Stiles leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, feeling very ganged up on and a little attacked. “No, it didn’t even have a pun in it, so will someone please explain what is making you guys lose your minds?”

The absolute last thing he was expecting was for Scott to growl violently and stand up. “Damn it, Derek!” And hey, that was Stiles’ line!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Heather wasn't really a prominant character in the show, but pretty much Everything changed as a result of the Alpha Pack not coming to Beacon Hills except to attack Erica and Boyd. A whole disaster avoided, or maybe just diverted somewhere else?? Who knows?  
> Plus, Stiles is an attractive, wonderful guy, and I need the show to fucking admit that, so I'm forcing it to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry that this is so late. We're starting to catch up to what I'm working on, so I'm gonna lengthen the time between chapters to three days and hopefully that way I can keep my edge.  
> Thank you for all the wellwishes on my wedding, you're all fantastic!

Derek didn’t seem to like the appropriation of Stiles’ alliterations either, or maybe it was just the challenge from a Beta, but either way he growled right back and the whole room got a nice flash of red eye.

Clearly Scott was trying to control himself, because the claws he’d sprouted were inching their way back into his hands and he sounded almost diplomatic when he grunted. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen or something?”

“No. We have more important things to discuss.” Now it seemed Derek’s Alpha eyes were taking up permanent residence, and he gave everyone in the pack except Stiles a good dose of it before he went back to staring at the invitation in his hand. “I don’t think the Betas should come with us to this meeting.”

There were near instant looks of outrage from the wolves in question, but none of them looked confident enough to fight back, so Stiles did it for them. “Why not? If it’s a pack meeting, shouldn’t the whole pack be there?”

“I’m the only one they’re evaluating, having the pack there wouldn’t help the cause if I’m having to watch over them the entire time.” His voice softened a little, becoming a little less imminent chainsaw teeth. “Besides, I don’t want the Alpha pack to have access to any of them.”

Boy, wasn’t that a thought? From the unsure glances Erica and Boyd were giving each other, they were thinking the same thing. Did they really wanna put them back in front of the wolves that’d nearly killed them? For that matter, did Stiles want any of his kids to face off against bloodthirsty Alphas? Who knew what it would do to Isaac, let alone Erica and Boyd. Lydia could probably manage it, but she shouldn’t have to. None of them should.

Stiles ceded the point after getting tiny head shakes from the Betas. “Then who  _ is _ going? I mean, you and Scott, obviously, but who else?”

Then the conversation got away from him a bit, seeing as everyone seemed to know some pretty vital information that he didn’t. Stiles tried not to be annoyed. He’d pry it out of someone eventually.

Feeling thoroughly left out, Stiles realized for the first time that he was cold. Stupid werewolves and their heater bodies. No one was even looking at him, so he trudged out to the kitchen to check the last place he’d had his hoodie. Sure enough it was hanging on the back of his favorite chair, the one that faced the big windows on either side of the back door. He could watch the Preserve through them while he ate snacks without getting scolded for scaring off animals.

When he returned wearing his signature jacket, Stiles found himself the subject of a couple pairs of searching eyes before Scott pointed right at him. Rude.

“Don’t even try to fight me on this. I will figure out how to turn the Alpha thing on for this alone.” He was talking to Derek, so why was Stiles getting the slightly less offensive finger?

Whatever was going on, Derek looked absolutely defeated and Stiles was across the room before he knew what his feet were doing. He stood behind Derek, not sure if he was doing it to show his support of whatever was happening, to make himself feel less like a bug under a magnifying glass, or because making Derek feel like he was protecting someone put them both at ease. Maybe it was a mix of all three.

Nothing actually happened for a while, but Stiles waited. He jumped a little when Scott gave a head jerk in Derek’s direction and furrowed his brows at Stiles. They were waiting for  _ him _ to do something.

The pack had been dependant on Stiles keeping Derek in a decent mood from the start, which was kind of ironic considering nobody else got Derek as angry as Stiles did. But they’d never asked for it before. It was just something Stiles did, hoping to make Derek feel a little better, that happened to work. He hadn’t realized how dysfunctional things got when he wasn’t there to make a little peace. As much as he loved the job, Stiles hoped there would come a day where he wasn’t  _ just _ needed.

But that day wasn’t today, and Stiles was happy to help, so he leaned over the back of the recliner a little and placed a sweater paw on Derek’s shoulder. Pretending there wasn’t anyone else in the room, Stiles whispered as gently as he could. “What’s up, Sourwolf?”

He watched Derek’s hair and thought about how stupidly unruffled it looked while he gave the Alpha time to formulate a response. It took longer than he was used to, but when Scott tried to catch his eye again, Stiles just shook his head until he backed off.

It was slightly gratifying when Derek finally turned his head up to look at Stiles, and  _ how _ did the rest of the pack not see the difference in Derek’s Alpha eyes? They never changed color, but Stiles had realized that first day upstairs that there were a lot of different emotions that could be discerned from the ember red. Derek looked absolutely terrified.

Of course he was. Derek came from the mother of all broken families, and he’d just started rebuilding. The pack was all he had, and now Derek had to go in front of a powerful rival and somehow prove how worthy he was of keeping everything that he’d found, everything he’d salvaged from his horrifying past.

“You’re coming with to the meeting.” Derek muttered, losing confidence and dropping his eyes.

Stiles squeezed his shoulder and said as firmly as he could. “Of course I am.” But something about that had seemed loaded. “Wait, why? I mean, it’s because I’m the Emissary, right?”

It was Derek’s first laugh of the day, as far as Stiles could tell, and all the faces in the room softened a little. “No, Stiles. Well, not just because of that. Weren’t you listening earlier?”

“Of course I was! Listening to what?” He was on a roll, and this time the chuckles that circled the area were well deserved. Feeling a bit proud, and secure enough to stop hiding behind his Alpha, Stiles moved around the side of the chair and sat on the arm. It was the only free space available except for the spot he’d abandoned across the room, and though Stiles was ready to fight for his right to sit there, nobody argued against it. In fact, Lydia draped herself across the entire loveseat, making a move impossible.

Derek sighed, but the words that came out sounded more resigned than exasperated. “The evaluation is of how stable I am, Stiles. I have to prove that I can handle stressful situations and take care of my pack and guard my territory successfully without losing control. Lone Alphas can accomplish all those things, but they still look weak to other packs, and I don’t have the firepower to deal with the distrust and excessive testing they’ll put me through if I show up by myself.”

“But you aren’t going to be alone!”

There was a polarity in Derek when he bit out the words, “I know.” Stiles thought they sounded simultaneously like the happiest and the saddest words he’d ever heard. But Derek pushed right on, not giving him a chance to figure out what was wrong. “Stiles, when I say Lone Alpha, I mean one without a mate.”

It was too much, and Stiles jumped up. “No, nuh uh. Too weird.”

His remark struck a chord, and Derek snapped his gaze onto Stiles, barely breathing. “Weird?”

“Yeah! It’s too weird not knowing what the hell you guys are talking about. I’m research dude, that’s  _ my _ thing, so somebody needs to explain, and since Scott insinuated that was supposed to be your job, you get to do it, Sourwolf. Come on. To the kitchen.” Not waiting for an answer, Stiles grabbed Derek’s wrist and pulled him out of the chair and toward the polished flooring of the new kitchen. It even still smelled new, like fresh white paint and that just bought appliance tang.

Stiles wasted no time settling himself in his favorite chair, and once he had his legs comfortably crossed, he graciously nodded at Derek, indicating he was allowed to proceed with the lecture. It was still weird to see Derek in such a domestic setting. His brooding face and chiseled physique standing next to a fridge with a hand towel tucked in the handle was strange to look at, but Stiles loved it. Derek deserved hand towels and fridges and overstuffed pillows and everything else that normal people got to have.

Fidgeting was also something normal people had, or rather, did, but that looked a little less nice on Derek. Combined with the Alpha eyes that were finally starting to seep away, Derek looked like he was debating running off. Was this really that touchy of a subject?

“Derek, who was the one that explained this stuff to  _ you? _ ” He was just trying to disperse some of the tension, get Derek talking, but the answer kind of broke his heart.

“My mom.”

_ Fuck. _ But somehow, it worked, and Derek loosened a little. “That’s why I told the Betas and Scott first. It’s, it’s a werewolf thing. Not something you should have to worry about.”

“Dude, not only do the kids in there call  _ me  _ Mom, but I’m supposed to be your Emissary. It’s my job and absolute pleasure to know everything I can that will help me keep us all safe. I mean, I’m fucking trying, but there’s like nothing about actual werewolves in any of my books. Nothing about biology or histories or how pack dynamics are even supposed to work. I’m winging it every step of the way because whenever I ask Deaton about it he gives me the  _ weirdest _ fucking look.”

Rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, Derek moved to sit in a chair across from Stiles. “That’s, uh...that’s my fault. It’s supposed to be my job to teach you that stuff, and I’ve been avoiding it.”

However much Stiles wanted to bang his head against the wall at this missing puzzle piece that just appeared, now wasn’t a good time to bring it up. Instead, he made himself as small and unthreatening as possible, folding his arms on the table and dropping his chin down on them so he could blink quietly up at his Alpha. “Okay, so start with this. Tell me what a mate is.”

“Haven’t you seen that word  _ anywhere _ ? They’re kind of important for diplomatic situations, I find it hard to believe they weren’t mentioned.”

Caught, Stiles averted his eyes and tried in vain to control the flush that was working its way up his face. “Well, uh, it may have come up. But I just thought it…” He buried his face in his arms for the last bit, knowing that he would be heard anyway. “I thought it was just another term for a second.” And he  _ knew _ , somehow, probably common sense, that Scott was laughing at him. Stiles rose up on his elbows and shouted in the direction of the living room, “Shut up! I was trying not to make assumptions!”

A strong hand caught his wrist, and when Stiles looked at Derek he was actually smiling. “As totally, completely incorrect as that is, I appreciate the sentiment. I don’t even want to know what sorts of things you’ve found if you need to work  _ that _ hard not to make assumptions, but I can tell you that the absolute most broad, non-inappropriate definition of the word is almost right. There is a lifebond between a wolf and their mate, usually another wolf. They’re also usually their anchor.”

“But I thought you said wolves had to find their anchor, like how yours is anger?” Finally, some answers. Stiles knew he would just piss someone off if he tried to grab a pen and paper, so he tried to memorize everything Derek said, watching his lips move as though it would brand the words on his mind until he got the chance to write them out again.

Derek winced for some reason, but nodded. “Yeah, they can be. But anchors change, and when a wolf finds their mate, they become each other’s anchor. Whenever they’re together, and after enough time, even when they aren’t, mates ground each other and help keep one another in control. That’s why an unmated Alpha is considered so volatile: they don’t have their other half.” Suddenly he shook his head a little, “Not that unmated Alphas are really so pathetic. We can all get along just fine without a mate, and not everyone finds or even wants one. But, it’s always better, as a wolf, to not be alone.”

One of Stiles’ favorite things about the way Derek discussed being a werewolf was how often he left off the ‘were’. Somehow the reference to a wolf made everything feel more real, more in harmony with the rest of the world. It wasn’t Derek and his werewolf self, it was Derek the wolf. Inseparable. There was no “Inner Wolf’ that Derek had to argue with, just another facet of himself.

“Normally me not having a mate wouldn’t be such a big deal, but our pack is too small, and there’s been too much going on lately. I have to look like I’m in control. I mean, I  _ am _ in control, but I have to have a mate in order for them to believe it.” Throughout his explanation, Derek left his hand on Stiles’ wrist, but now he pulled it away. “That’s where you come in. You’re the most fit for the job, and it’s best if we have an Emissary there anyway. Plus it’ll limit how many of us need to come along. So, if you’re willing, you’ll come with us and pretend to be my mate for the duration of the evaluation.”

The implications and dangers of his assignment weren’t lost on Stiles, and he spluttered a little at the clarification. “What do you mean, if I’m willing? Isn’t this something the pack needs? It’s this or we go to war, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I’d rather go alone with Scott than make you come with when you don’t want to.”

“Why isn’t Scott bringing a mate?”

“He doesn’t want to, and they won’t mind so long as I have one. Scott hasn’t even fully embraced his True Alpha status, so I’m the head of the pack.” Derek seemed to be losing his patience, and he added with a growl. “Do you want to come or not?”

Stiles couldn’t help it. He laughed. His life was so fucking weird, he’d never be allowed to write an autobiography. “Are you kidding me? Of course I want to come! This is awesome on like so many levels. I get to be the Emissary, help the pack, see you interacting with other werewolves,  _ meet _ other werewolves that might not want to rip my throat out with their teeth, and miss school for a week. This is gonna be awesome!”

He was so lost in imagining what a big pack of werewolves would look like, he didn’t hear what Derek muttered next. “What was that?”

“I said, ‘I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that wants to rip your throat out with my teeth.’” Derek was smiling again, and now that it seemed like everything was calming down, Stiles was ready to ignore his homework and watch movies with the pack until everybody had to go home.

As he wandered out the kitchen door, Stiles threw Derek a smirk. “You wish, I’m sure I’ve annoyed  _ plenty _ of supernatural creatures, and humans even, enough to make them wanna ruin this neck.” He pointed to his long neck that was honestly, probably pretty easy to tear out, with way more smugness than he should have had and caught only a moment of Derek’s Alpha eyes before he ran into the living room.

“Alright kids, Mom and Dad are going on vacation! Terrifying, kind of deadly vacation, but what else is new?” Nobody even laughed this time. It was tragic how bad their understanding of comedy was.

Erica was the first to speak, planting her hands in a perfect platform on the back edge of the couch and giving him a flutter of long lashes. “Paarrrty??” For a werewolf, sometimes she looked remarkably like a cat.

Hell no, Stiles was not getting in the middle of that conversation. “Ask your Alpha.”

Unfortunately movie night was not to be, because the instant Derek re-entered the living room, Scott jumped to his feet and though he’d kept his claws sheathed, the golden Beta eyes were out full force. If they didn’t deal with whatever their problem was soon, it would undoubtedly blow up in their faces during the meeting, so Stiles nudged Derek’s side. “Behave, okay?”

Derek just sighed at him and walked back to the kitchen, clicking the back door shut behind him. As Scott tried to pass, Stiles grabbed him by the shoulder. “Hey. Be nice to him.”

There was a nod of agreement, and Stiles let him go to say goodbye to Erica and Boyd. Lydia had driven herself in her classy sweet 16 present, so she agree to give them both rides, smiling just a little too eagerly at Erica as they made their way out the door. Isaac held up a controller from his new position on the floor in front of the television, and Stiles took it, preparing to kick the Beta’s ass at whatever the hell he picked.

Stiles was proud at the lack of roaring coming from the backyard, so when Scott called for him he jogged a little to go meet with them.

Scott was pushing the feet of a lawn chair firmly into the ground, and Derek was lighting up the tiny hand torch that Stiles had used to test his runes on the house. “Uh, please tell me you didn’t collectively decide to make me into a Stiles flambe. I’ll let Isaac win the next round, I promise!”

“It’s for me, Derek’s doing me a favor and we need you to hold me still.” Scott settled down into the chair and beckoned Stiles over, who followed at an appropriately reluctant speed.

Even as he took hold of Scott’s shoulders like a good friend does, Stiles couldn’t help asking, “Is the favor to help you realize some masochistic fantasy? Cus’ I don’t see how else a blowtorch could be a good addition to your body.”

“ _ Stiles _ . I’m giving Scott his tattoo. The kind that won’t heal over. Shut up and hold him still so he doesn’t screw it up.” 

And then Derek was coming over, and Stiles lifted his hands in front of them both. “Wait! Wait, wait, wait. You need to let Isaac know or he’s gonna freak.”

Derek looked like he wanted to huff, but he settled for rolling his eyes and shouting toward the house, “Isaac, go to your room!” There was a muffled crash that came through the door, and then a quiet howl filtered through the air. Derek tilted his head and gestured toward Scott with the torch.

Satisfied with the knowledge that the soundproofing built into the bedrooms would keep Scott’s screams from upsetting Isaac, Stiles nodded. “Fine.”

It was frankly disgusting, and Stiles’ favorite part was when Scott passed out so he could back away from the smell of burning flesh, but when it was all said and done, the tattoo didn’t look that bad. Well, considering it was literally just two bands around Scott’s forearm, one bigger than the other. Who was he kidding? It looked ridiculous.

But Scott was happy, and the dagger eyes between Stiles’ best friend and his Alpha had stopped, so things were good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Opinions? I had to fit Scott's tattoo in there somewhere, and this seemed to work pretty well.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go guys, one step forward, two steps back.

The meeting was in two weeks, and the amount of negotiation required to get Stiles’ dad to agree to the beginning of school, weeklong camping trip was both completely outrageous and totally unsurprising. A deal was finally struck, but it posed some serious challenges, like how Stiles was supposed to learn about pretending to be mate when he was on house arrest.

Stiles was allowed out of the house for school only, a condition the sheriff insisted on as proof that the camping trip was  _ really _ that important, and his dad even had a squad car drive by 10 minutes after school got out to ensure Stiles’ jeep was parked out front. Technically that’s all they had to do, but the cops in Beacon Hills were apparently all suckups because they insisted on going up to the house to make sure Stiles was actually inside too. In short, there was no possible way Stiles could sneak out to go get lessons or whatever else he needed to do to prepare for the evaluation. Even shorter, he was screwed.

Barely two hours after school on the first day of his isolation, Stiles had already finished the next two days of homework. Admittedly, it was the beginning of the year and his homework was mostly textbook readings, but still. He could totally keep up with Lydia’s GPA if he wanted to.

At a loss for anything else to do, Stiles went back to reading his diplomacy book. This time he flipped right to the section that had mentioned mates and soaked up everything he could. They were more important than he’d given them credit for, counting as an equal on the ranking scale and given access to everything their other half had access to. There would be no doors that Stiles couldn’t walk through with Derek, which was a relief.

Speak of the Alpha and in he lurks, apparently. The window squealed as it opened next to Stiles’ desk, so at least he didn’t drop the book on his face this time. Not bothering to look up, Stiles said, “Do you have any idea how unfair it is that Mrs. McCall is just  _ letting _ Scott go? I mean, where’s the solidarity?

“She knows how important it is. It wouldn’t do either of you any good if Scott was stuck in the house too.” There was the double  _ thunk _ of Derek dropping his boots on the floor, and then the springs in Stiles’ bed squeaked a little.

Stiles turned around to see Derek laying in the middle of his bed as relaxed as anything and digging through the pile of Greek and Latin literature hidden from door view on the far side of the mattress. Derek frowned when he couldn’t find anything in a language people still spoke and Stiles snapped his fingers to get the Alpha’s attention. When Derek looked at him, Stiles grabbed a book off his desk at random and tossed it to him.

Closing the cover of his own book, Stiles shifted his seat so he could rest his chin on the back of it. “Sorry, I don’t really have anything for you to do in here. You guys never come over so I keep that stuff in the car.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, but settled back against the pillows and opened his reading material. “Aesop’s Fables?”

“I compare it to the Greek I’m translating. You’d like it, lots of weirdly gore-y life lessons.”

And that was it, for the next couple hours Stiles rescanned all the sections he’d skipped out of a misconception that mates were the same thing as an Alpha’s second. They required completely different behaviors that he’d never have thought of, and the thought of greeting someone incorrectly and ruining the meeting before it started made Stiles a little sick.

That slight nausea prompted him to ask, “So, what exactly do I need to do?”

“What do you mean?” Clearly Derek hadn’t caught on to the topic Stiles was going for, because he was still relaxed. Stiles wished he would stay that way.

Tapping his pencil on his notebook, Stiles cleared his throat before trying to voice his concerns. They were muddled, and he was embarrassingly aware of how little he actually knew about dynamics within packs, though a tiny part of his brain fussed at the fact that technically his ignorance was Derek’s own fault. “Like, do I have to wear special clothing? I mean, the book doesn’t say anything about needing to use a special name, but should I call you something different? And how  _ physical _ is a mate bond?”

Stiles nearly choked when he realized how badly his sentence came out. “I don’t mean—uh, you know what I don’t mean. I was just wondering if there was like, a physical way to tell if two people are mates. Like...uh, maybe a bite?”

“Where did you hear that?” Unlike the amused expression Derek had carried when Stiles first pointed out he only knew what he’d found online, now his brows were furrowed and he was staring at Stiles with some kind of intent that Stiles couldn’t decipher.

Pencil still tapping rapidly, Stiles answered, “Well, it was just a guess. The internet has to be right  _ some _ of the time, you know? If that’s totally off, then blanket apology, I guess. I just don’t know much about this.”

“No, that’s...that part is true. Once a mate bond has been confirmed and accepted by both sides, it’s the last step. It’s very serious. Once you’ve solidified the bond, there’s no going back. Mates don’t get divorced.” Derek looked as serious as he sounded, but he actually seemed happy, rather than upset at the connotations of what he’d said.

Stiles forced his pencil to stop and spoke with as neutral a voice as he could manage. “That doesn’t sound very...uh, consensual. Like, what if you grow apart, or something happens and somebody changes? You can’t ever leave?”

But Derek shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Mates, or potential ones at least, are compatible. Their personalities fit together, and once the bond is solidified, making things work is their first priority.” He dropped his book onto the bed next to him and sat up, crossing his legs in an aching nonchalant way. Stiles watched his eyes go distant, and his next words sounded straight from a bedtime story. “When you’re mated, you  _ want _ to make your partner happy. Both people are always willing to put in the work, because, well, they’re your  _ mate _ . My mom used to say it was a kind of magic, one that strengthens everything you already feel and makes it last a lifetime.”

Stiles dropped his gaze to his notebook, trying to think of how he could possibly answer. It wasn’t every day that Derek brought up his mom, or his family in general, and every time he did Stiles agonized over how to respond so he didn’t make Derek regret trusting him.

“So, were your parents mates?”

“Yeah.”

His response doubled as an answer to Stiles’ next question, but he asked it anyway. “Your dad was human, right? Does that mean humans can have the bite too?”

Derek suddenly dropped back down to the bed. “You don’t have to worry about that. You’re still underage, so they won’t expect you to have a bond bite yet. In fact, you don’t  _ need _ to do anything. Scott and I can still go without you.”

Stiles fought hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “We’ve been over this, Sourwolf. I want to go, and I am unless you force me to stay. Now, if I don’t have to dress up or get bit, what do I have to do to convince them I’m your mate? I mean, this whole ‘walk a half step behind’ thing is really over the top, don’t you think?”

“Oh, ignore that. Those books are like a hundred years old, we don’t follow most of those rules anymore. It’s different for everyone, now.” Derek grunted, pulling the words from his mouth like he was pulling teeth. “You would basically act the way you would if we were dating. Some couples are more tactile than others, but some are casual enough that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were mates without the bite.”

“We can’t do that.” Stiles said, thinking hard. He went to continue, but froze at the pain on Derek’s face, like he was waiting for a punch in the gut. “What? Why do you keep looking at me like I’m about to say something horrible?”

Immediately Derek’s face hardened, eyes closing off with just a blink. “I’m not doing anything. What were you going to say?”

The constant alarm Derek showed whenever Stiles tried to discuss the fake mate bond he needed to learn about was unusual, and a little painful. Derek never seemed to have issues with Stiles before, or at least, not ones with their friendship. He wanted to keep his tone tentative and soothing, to relax some of Derek’s nerves, but it came out snarky. “I know I’m probably not your first choice here, and I get that this isn’t the ideal situation, but unless you want to face both the Alpha and the Walker packs with just Scott for company, you need to work with me here.”

“That’s not—I’m  _ fine _ , Stiles. Just tell me what you were going to say.” He wouldn’t make eye contact anymore, choosing to stare up at the ceiling instead.

For a moment Stiles wondered why he was even bothering with all of this, since Derek seemed so sure he could do it without him. Then he mentally slapped himself, because he knew exactly why. Because they were pack, and he wasn’t going to let any of them down. Derek needed help, and Stiles wasn’t going to leave him hanging, no matter how awkward it got.

So he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if you aren’t comfortable with it, but we can’t pretend we have a casual mateship—bondship?—or whatever it is. If they start to question us, we could get in huge trouble for faking this. If we do this, we need to go all out. I know scent is a huge thing with you guys, so maybe sharing clothes? And as much touching as you can manage. Even if I’m too young for...some stuff, if we were dating there would still be hugging and hand holding and, uh, kissing. Which we can keep to a minimum! And stick to like, cheeks or something. God, this is gonna take more than I thought.”

Derek didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and Stiles was already trying to figure out how to backtrack when he said, “You’re right. Just, don’t think about it too much. You and I are already close by pack standards. Pretend you like me, and we should be fine.”

Stiles snorted. “That’s not something I have to pretend, dude. You’re my Alpha.”

There was no answer to that, and Stiles assumed the conversation was over, so he began jotting down what he’d learned alongside the notes from his book. When he’d written down all the most important information, he switched to translating, trying to keep his mind busy and not think about the insane plan he’d agreed to. The only sound that came for a while was the occasional rustle of a thick page being flipped.

Then, “You know, I used to solve those puzzles all the time.”

“What?”

There was another rustle. “The cube things. They’re really useful for maintaining focus, and Laura and I used to work on solving them together to keep our minds off...other stuff, during the full moon. The only reason I don’t use the ones you keep in the car is because I’ve already worked them all out.”

“So what you’re telling me is that your whole family was a bunch of nerds?”

“No, mostly just me and Laura.” There was a tiny scritching noise, and Stiles considered how much easier it was to talk about pretty much anything when you didn’t have to look someone in the face. He and Derek talked a lot, but the Sourwolf always seemed more confident when no one could see his face. It sort of sucked, because Stiles liked watching Derek’s face when he talked. It was more expressive than his friends seemed to think. 

The nonchalance with which Derek spoke of his lost sister made Stiles’ heart ache just a little with happiness, but the actual sentence made him snicker.

There was another minute of silence before Stiles asked. “So how far did you get?”

“What do you mean?”

“With the puzzle boxes. They’ve got levels and stuff, so what level did you get to?”

“Seven? Maybe eight. We had a lot of free time.”

Stiles’ only response was a low, impressed whistle.

Later, Stiles woke up in bed with no particular memory of how he’d arrived there. He was comfortable, if a little too warm, and the sliver of moonlight streaming through the window lit up the room just enough for him to see a leather jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. It was Derek’s. Stiles tried to shift from his side and get a better look, but something encircling his waist held him still with an iron grip.

The reason Stiles was so hot was because Derek was asleep next to him.

While Stiles had spent those three days sleeping in Derek’s arms at the house during the summer, they’d never actually laid down before. Derek had chosen to sit up against the wall and Stiles had shifted whichever way he needed within the light cage of Derek’s lap. Stiles had to wonder if Derek had been holding himself back, because this was completely different.

This was an embrace. Derek was a line of pure fire behind Stiles, pinning him into a full body cuddle with one arm wrapped around his waist, and a leg twined around Stiles’ own, holding his ankles down. Stiles had never felt so secure.

A prickle of claws against Stiles’ skin made him twitch in surprise, and he realized that while the overaggressive spooning was nice, being jabbed in the hip was probably what had woken him up in the first place. He was still fully clothed, but Derek’s claws were poking through his shirt.

“Hey, Sourwolf? Not that I’m not totally digging the cuddling and stuff, cus’ hey, you don’t do this with your pack enough in my opinion, and at least you haven’t tried to drown me in your hair like Erica did that one time, but uh...you’re kinda hurting me.” Apparently the late hour had all but destroyed Stiles’ filter, and when he didn’t get a response from the normally light sleeper, he continued. “Seriously, if you just put away the claws we can go back to sleep, but if you do much more you’re gonna draw blood. Not a great feeling, especially for the weakling human who doesn’t have super healing.”

There was still no response, but after a moment the twinge in Stiles’ hip increased and he jerked away only to be squeezed even tighter. Now he was in actual pain, and the arm Derek had folded under the pillow shifted to cross Stiles chest, constricting his breathing. As he stifled a hiss, Stiles heard for the first time the erratic puffs of breath on the back of his head. Every few seconds there was a soft whine from the wolf, and he was pressing his face into the back of Stiles’ hair enough that Stiles might actually be drowning  _ him _ .

The fear that Stiles had been tamping down slid away, replaced by worry. Derek wasn’t joking, or angry. He was shifting in his sleep. Derek was having a nightmare.

“Derek? Derek!” he whispered, lifting his volume as high as he dared. Any louder and he risked waking up his dad as well, and that would be an absolutely awful way for the two to meet again.

It was a stupid idea, probably one of the most stupid ideas Stiles had ever had, but he was getting more worried by the second and he needed to do something that might shock Derek into waking up without having to hurt him. Taking as deep a breath as he could and blinking away the spots in his vision caused by lack of oxygen, Stiles tilted his head as far as it would go into the pillow and presented his neck. With his unpinned hand, he reached uncomfortably behind himself and shoved on the back of Derek’s neck, pressing his face into the hollow of Stiles’ neck.

There was a very good chance that Derek was about to make good on his signature threat, and Stiles braced himself for the gnashing of teeth. There were none. Instead, Derek began to gasp in deep, open mouthed breaths against Stiles’ skin. The arms around Stiles constricted again, almost unbearably, but Stiles bit back a groan of pain and after a moment Derek completely deflated. His limbs went lax and the only signs that he was near waking were the long inhales of Stiles’ scent.

Stiles was taking some big breaths too, but he tried to regulate them as much as possible while he waited for the Alpha to come out of it. It didn’t take long before Derek tensed, thankfully not squeezing again.

His deep breaths stopped, but when he tried to pull away Stiles shoved on his neck again. “Nuh uh, just take a second, dude. Just relax.”

The only response he got was Derek resting his head lightly on the side of Stiles’ neck, probably not feeling safe enough to fight the smell of pack. Stiles was hot, and a little sweaty from the werewolf blanket he was wrapped in, but from the ticklish snuffling happening and the way Derek calmed down again, he’d made the right call.

Now that Stiles wasn’t being jabbed or strangled, his position was insanely comfortable. Derek made a wonderful blanket, and the pressure of him against Stiles’ back felt supportive and safe, and he started drifting off again in spite of himself.

“Are you seriously falling asleep, Stiles?” The rumble behind him made Stiles jump, but as he crawled back to proper consciousness he didn’t bother moving away from him. Instead he shifted to lay on his stomach instead, and jumped again when the voice returned in a stony whisper. “Why do I smell blood?”

Stiles didn’t have a chance to come up with a reply before he was being rolled onto his back and Derek was straddling one of his legs, pulling Stiles’ shirt up. He batted at the hands, still not quite alert, but Derek wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at Stiles’ hip. Stiles looked down at it too, and saw five small pinpricks of red curled around his side.

That woke him up. “Huh, didn’t realize you broke skin.” They didn’t even hurt, but Derek was backing up anyway, climbing off the bed and going for his jacket. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Are you kidding? I hurt you, I’m leaving.” Derek’s voice was far too small, and Stiles was scrambling off the edge of the bed and standing in front of the window before the blur of sleep had even been wiped from his eyes.

He rubbed at his eyelids with both fists, reassuring Derek all the while. “I’m fine! You didn’t hurt me.” When he could see again, he watched Derek lacing up his boots and did the responsible thing. He stole one.

Growling lowly, Derek reached for the boot. When Stiles hid it behind his back, Derek snapped his teeth at him. Considering their situation, it was about as empty as threats can get.

For the first time in months, Stiles found himself shoved against a wall. “Do you have a death wish?” Derek snarled. “When an Alpha werewolf is losing control, you don’t put your goddamn jugular next to his teeth! Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Although Derek had a hand on Stiles’ chest, pinning him to the space between Stiles’ window and his desk, there was no force behind it. Derek was simply refusing to move, and it was enough to keep Stiles trapped. Even so, Stiles didn’t like giving up, so he continued pulling backward on Derek’s wrist. The angle was odd, and it was never going to work, but at least he didn’t feel like he was being totally weak. “Because if I was loud, like you’re being right now, I would have woken up my dad. You know, the Sheriff who arrested you last year? You having a nightmare is not an excuse for me to get you shot.”

“I heal, you don’t! Especially not if I kill you in my sleep!”

“Did it help?” The fuming wolf in front of him froze, and Stiles took the opportunity to push down on Derek’s hand instead, forcing it to drag down his chest until he could slide it off his ribs and get free. Only, once he was able to move, he didn’t really want to.

Derek was still staring at him, his face caught in the light coming through the window. He was glowing again, but this time his eyes were a soft green and blue. Stiles was sure he was suppressing any part of the shift, overcompensating for his earlier lack of control.

There was still no response, so Stiles reconnected them to get Derek’s attention, pressing a hand into the wolf’s shoulder. “Cus’ if it helped, it was worth it.”

Still staring, still no answer. “Okay, come on.” Stiles shifted his hand to Derek’s wrist and pulled. Nothing happened.

As Stiles tugged on the immobile Alpha, he was forced to admit that he took for granted Derek’s usual pliability in his hands. Stiles was a show and tell kind of person, and even when he could easily explain what he’d found or learned, he preferred to show at the same time. It led to him dragging pretty much everyone around that he could get his hands on, most notably Derek. Who just let him.

Most of the time. Not now, apparently, when it actually freaking mattered. Stiles yanked again, and even though he knew his strength was no match for a Beta werewolf, let alone Derek, it still made Derek stumble forward a little. Encouraged, Stiles dug his socked heels into the carpet and pulled until he was held up almost entirely by Derek. Finally, the Alpha started to move.

Stiles led him to the bathroom, peeking his head out the door and listening for the grumbling snores of his father before heading to the shared bathroom with Derek in tow. Turning on the light made Stiles squint horribly for a minute, and once he’d pushed the door shut, he let go of Derek and leaned against the counter to adjust. Sure the bathroom wasn’t big, but there was enough room for Derek to get back some personal space, since he was so angry with Stiles. He didn’t take it though, and just stood at Stiles’ back, blinking rapidly to adjust his sensitive eyes.

It wasn’t until Stiles started rummaging through the lower cupboard that Derek spoke. “Why’d you bring me in here?”

“Because you’re clearly going all Sourwolf on me, and I don’t honestly believe you would have stayed if I left you in the bedroom. I want you to stay here until you calm down.” Finally the little box Stiles had stocked up appeared at the back and Stiles pulled it out triumphantly, popping off the top and digging inside.

“I am calm.”

Stiles snorted. “No, you’re not. Every time I get you relatively close to calm, you go and get upset again. So stop that, and help me with this.” With a tiny jump, Stiles sat on the high counter.

He didn’t need the help, but he held out the small bandages to Derek anyway. If Derek was going to blame himself for what was a  _ complete _ accident, it would probably relax him if he got to atone for it or something by putting Stiles back together, at least figuratively. And it did seem to work. Derek took the bandages obediently, and when Stiles lifted up the edge of his shirt, he peeled each one open and spread them over the claw points.

His hands were surprisingly gentle, and after a moment of smoothing the edges of the bandages, he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Stiles sighed. “Would you even believe me if I told you I forgive you, and I wasn’t angry in the first place?”

Shifting so he could see the cuts meant that Derek was now standing between Stiles’ legs. Again, Stiles felt overly warm, but he wasn’t sure he could blame it on the werewolf standing so close to him this time. It was a lot like how close he’d been to Heather the other day, but he was so used to Derek being in his space, he didn’t feel the same urge to stumble backwards. Not that he could if he wanted to.

The urge to ramble stayed though, and Stiles took full advantage, hoping the chatter would hide his racing heartbeat. “I know you didn’t mean to do it, and I knew you wouldn’t really hurt me if I made you scent me. I’m pack, and I figured it might help. I mean, I’m just glad you’re here in the first place. Like I told the Betas yesterday, you’ve all kind of ruined me for normal human society. I swear I accidentally sniffed my dad when I gave him a hug before dinner, and being alone in my room was kind of excruciating. I missed you guys like crazy.”

He’d been lonely and frustrated, knowing he wasn’t going to see the pack for so long. Stiles’ dad barely knew the pack existed. He’d met Isaac during the investigation after Mr. Lahey’s death, and Erica and Boyd both had to see him when they went to remove the missing persons records, but because Derek thought it was unsafe to have the pack at Stiles’ house, his dad didn’t know they were Stiles’ friends. As far as the sheriff was concerned, Stiles still spent all his time with Scott and he had a wavering acquaintanceship with Lydia.

Being at home felt isolating. There was nothing to remind him of his pack, because they’d never been there except to threaten him ages ago. After months of close contact, Stiles was starving for something more familiar than the occasional warm touches his father gave him and the stifled embraces during school.

But Derek had gone years suffering the same way, with only Laura to support him and vice versa. The thought reminded Stiles of why he was even in this intimate position with the Alpha, and he fidgeted a little as he asked, “So, uh, now that we’ve established that I’m fine, can I ask about you? You okay, Sourwolf?”

The knock at the door made Stiles flail backward, but before he could crack his head on the mirror behind him, Derek yanked him forward against his chest and pulled him off the counter to stand. With a finger to his lips, he stood behind the door so Stiles could pull it open and keep him hidden from view.

“Dad! What’s up?” Trying to look less flustered, Stiles leaned against the door jamb and rubbed at his eye as sleepily as he could manage.

His father stood before him in a ragged t-shirt and the sleep sweats Stiles had bought for him for Christmas the year before. They were covered in cheesy looking snowflakes and snowmen, but Noah Stilinski wasn’t one to care about wearing out of season clothing. “I could ask you the same thing. It’s 2 in the morning Stiles, who are you talking to in there?”

“No one! I mean, I was talking to myself, of course. Practicing my thank you speech, you know how it goes.”

Noah frowned. “What speech? What exactly did you win?”

Stiles rubbed a hand through his hair, trying not to look over at Derek. “Oh, well nothing, yet. I just want to have one ready, just in case. What if I get an award?”

“Well, are you done? Some of us want to use the bathroom for its intended purpose.”

That wasn’t going to turn out well for anybody. Nodding vacantly, Stiles looked up and down the hall in search of something to distract his dad. Finally, he latched on the thing furthest away. Sweeping his hand down on the light switch, Stiles stepped forward and threw an arm around his dad’s shoulder. “Of course, totally understandable, I mean, you probably drank a lot of coffee earlier. But while you’re up, I wanted to ask you about something.”

As he dragged his father down to the end of the hall to look at a vase of fake flowers, Stiles listened for the tiny squeak of his bedroom door opening. When it came, he excused himself as quickly as he could and wandered back to the room rubbing at his hair and eyes furiously.

It was empty. Alpha-lite. Stiles even leaned out his window to check the slanted section of roof just below the sill, but Derek was gone.

As Stiles crawled back into bed, he tried his damndest to ignore the sandalwood scent Derek had left on his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, so close to talking about actual feelings. Damn it Derek!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter, with another bout of Stiles Feels for you.

It turned out that extremely limited exposure to his pack via Derek snuggles he couldn’t even  _ remember, _ only served to make Stiles more antsy. The next day he hugged his dad three times before leaving for school, and when he got there he nearly tackled Scott into a bush.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” Even as he complained, Scott squeezed Stiles tight and buried his face in his shoulder as long as was publicly acceptable. 

Stiles did the same, feeling part of his anxiety seep away at the smell of pack. “Just, never realized how codependent you people make me. Where are the kids? I need more hugs, since Derek’s so damn stingy.”

They’d barely managed a few feet into the school before the Betas and Lydia popped up. Erica was chipper as always, clinging to Boyd’s hand and twirling a piece of her hair flirtatiously around a finger, as though they hadn’t already promised themselves to each other for life. Boyd was just as drawn in though, abandoning his usual stoic expression for a soft smile as he listened to Erica chatter to an equally excited Lydia. Isaac was blushing slightly at the sheer mushiness of his family, ruffling his own golden curls until Stiles dragged him in for a hug.

Isaac seemed startled by the affection, but he melted into it as quickly as always and Stiles gave in to the desire to pet the back of the taller wolf’s head. It was one of his favorite things.

A quick whistle from down the hall had Stiles jerking away, remembering his manners. However much the pack liked to cuddle, they had to keep some distance in public. It still amazed Stiles how antisocial and touchstarved the Betas had been before the summer. He’d never have realized how tactile they really were if Erica and Boyd hadn’t given in and snuggled up against him in thanks after they were well enough to stand up. Then it was just a matter of showing he was available and willing for the cuddling and they started needing to make blanket nests on the floor during movie nights to accommodate the puppy piles.

“I swear to god, half the school probably things we’re part of some orgy group or something.” Stiles laughed, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. To his delight, his words brought groans and gagging noises from the Betas, and Lydia covered her mouth as primly as she could. Even the tiny mutter of “Moooom, gross” from Isaac was worth it.

They got all the way to lunch before Scott bothered to ask, “What did you mean about Derek being stingy?”

Stiles almost didn’t want to answer. Normally he kept the Derek talk to a minimum around the Betas, for reasons he couldn’t quite understand himself. But Allison was also sitting them them today, having been invited by both Scott and Isaac as a peace offering after breaking it to her they were dating. Sure, she was nice and it wasn’t like he thought she’d be rude, but she wasn’t pack.

His silence was taken from him when, not having heard the beginning of the conversation, the others at the table perked up, and Stiles was forced to put down his apple. “Derek, and how stingy he is about touching. I mean, I don’t know how he manages it. I’m only human and not being around people I can touch has started driving me mad.” He nodded at Allison, “Again, sorry about the surprise hug earlier. Also, please don’t teach Lydia how to punch like that.”

Scott gave him an incredulous look, but it was Erica who answered. “You realize he’s even worse with us, right? The closest I’ve ever gotten to him was when I jumped on him during training once, right after he bit me, and he threw me across the room for it.” 

“See, that’s ridiculous! I’d talk to him about it, but I doubt he’s gonna wanna go anywhere near me after last night.”

Immediately the faces surrounding him tensed, and Lydia and Scott spoke at the same time. “What happened last night?”

Stiles paled a little. He didn’t want to expose Derek’s nightmares, or get him in trouble with anyone. “Nothing! I mean, he doesn’t think so, but it was seriously nothing. He was just having a bad night, and he might’ve  _ accidentally _ clawed me a little.” Jaws dropped and he hurried to add, “A little! Like, tiny itty bitty cuts that barely even bled, and I know he didn’t mean to. I told him like eight times that I was okay, but he fucking ran off.”

“That’s why he was so pissed off today.” Isaac breathed. He was still holding a fork of lasagna halfway to his mouth, having forgotten eating was a thing while Stiles spoke.

Stiles squeaked, “What?”

Isaac nodded, looking around as the group’s attention shifted to him. Even Allison seemed hooked on the pack gossip. “He refused to talk to me this morning, and he didn’t even look me in the eye once. I thought he’d gotten bad news or something, but this makes so much more sense.”

To Stiles’ complete confusion, everyone else except Allison started nodding like they understood what Isaac meant.

Before he could question them, Scott spoke up. His voice was determined and sure, and Stiles was reminded of his True Alpha status, how it really did make sense.

“We’ll fix it.” He was looking at Stiles, promising him as though Stiles pissing Derek off wasn’t a normal occurrence. Give it a week and they’d be back to regularly scheduled programming, but Scott was insistent. “Don’t worry about it, Stiles. We’ll fix it.”

Stiles returned home after school with a backpack full of homework and a bright red smudge of lipstick on his cheek from Erica. She’d planted a kiss on his cheekbone after a bonecrushing hug to make up for not getting one in the morning, and Stiles had had to make a quip about ‘Stilinski hugs’ to hide the warm glow he got whenever the pack initiated contact.

In a decidedly better mood than the day before, Stiles headed to the kitchen to start a decent dinner. There was thawed chicken waiting in the fridge, and Stiles had just pulled out some sweet potatoes to peel when his doorbell rang. Already groaning at the checkup, Stiles pulled open the front door expecting to see one of his dad’s deputies.

Instead, Lydia stood in front of him carrying a large blue purse with magazines inside. “No way was I going to climb in through the window like everyone else.” she explained, brushing a warm hand across his shoulders as she moved past him and heading up the steps to his room like it was something she did every day and not an image torn from Stiles’ old daydreams.

Allison had apparently been waiting behind Lydia, and when Stiles turned back to see her, she blushed a brilliant shade of pink. “Um, Lydia invited me? I hope this is okay…” All Stiles could do was nod, feeling very much like Bilbo Baggins, and wave his arm to invite her into the house and up to his room. Once she’d headed away, he peered out into the street to make sure no one else appeared before closing the door.

Wait, ‘everyone else’? Stiles made a dash for his room, calling out as he ran up the steps, “What did you mean—”

His voice dropped off as he entered his bedroom to find it stuffed to the brim with people. His people. His whole pack was in his room, making themselves comfortable on furniture and flooring. Erica and Boyd had claimed the floor under the window, and Lydia ruled over things from his desk chair, snooping at the files and notebooks covering the surface around his laptop. Scott and Isaac were sitting on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed, waiting as Allison settled into place next to them. Everyone, bar Lydia, had homework out.

Sitting on top of Stiles’ bed, flipping through Aesop’s Fables like he was totally in his element, was Derek.

The quiet ache that Stiles had been fighting off as he resigned himself to total isolation from his pack for the next two weeks dissipated, replaced by a warm gooey softness that settled in his stomach and made him fight down a sigh of contentment. His only thought for a moment, completely free of sarcasm, was how good it felt to see all his kids again. Finally having them in his home, scenting at his bookshelf and filling up the empty spaces, made his whole head buzz with happiness. It was mushy and sentimental, and Scott gave him a blinky confused look, but Stiles could only smile.

“How does chicken, sweet potatoes, and brussel sprouts sound?” he asked, already calculating the number of times he’d need to multiply the recipe to feed the whole pack. He was sure he had enough food, but he’d have to go grocery shopping if they made this a regular occurrence.

There were hums of encouragement mixed with groans over vegetables, but the general opinion was good, so Stiles turned to head back downstairs. As he reached the foot of the steps he took advantage of the small army in his room. “Someone needs to volunteer to help peel potatoes.”

Not waiting for an answer, Stiles returned to the kitchen and pulled more chicken from the freezer. If he microwaved it a little, he could let it thaw while he peeled and chopped before baking them all.

Of course they’d pick Derek. This was probably Scott’s entire plan, shoving them in a room together until they got over whatever had happened. To be fair, it usually worked.

This time though, they didn’t talk. Derek just wandered into the kitchen and took a seat at the island, digging into the sweet potatoes and peeling in silence. As Stiles trimmed and halved his brussel sprouts, he let a wave of calm wash over him. No anxieties, no arguing, just cooking for the pack like they usually did. It was easy and comfortable, and the tension in Derek’s shoulders retreated soon after Stiles started humming a song from the radio he couldn’t remember the words to.

Once the tripled recipe was baking on a low heat in three separate pans, Stiles led Derek back up to the room to see what damage the pack had done. None apparently, as they were all still buried in schoolwork. Except Lydia, who was reading a magazine article about seasonal drinks with the same intensity she showed molecular biochemistry papers.

Scott had been sitting in the middle of the bed when they came in, fiddling with a cube he’d obviously stolen from the Jeep, but he slid off at the sight of Stiles to rejoin the quiet studying Allison and Isaac were absorbed in.

It was the only empty space in the room, so Stiles crawled onto half of the bed and pulled his current reading material out from under his pillow and patted at the empty side when Derek didn’t move. It took a second for Derek to get past whatever reluctance he was holding, and Stiles was immensely grateful that the pack didn’t try to intervene, but eventually Derek joined him and went back to his fables.

There was silence, except for the rustling of pages and the occasional muttering over an answer. Stiles felt almost the same as he did at the pack house, and he relaxed into it eagerly, scooting down on the bed until he was holding his book above his face. It was a precarious situation, but comfortable nonetheless, and Derek’s warmth beside him had Stiles blinking rapidly to stay awake after only a few minutes

Stiles was almost completely gone, eyelids glued shut and book drooping centimeters from his face, when his father found them. The change in the air was palpable, and Stiles didn’t need the slight nudge Derek gave him to register there was a threat in the area. He had time to close his book and rub his eyes open before his dad pushed open the door with a tiny knock. It hadn’t been fully closed anyway, so Stiles didn’t flinch at the breach of privacy.

What he did flinch at, was the shock on the sheriff’s face as he took in a room full of teenagers, and one adult. An adult that was sharing a bed with his son.

Doing what came naturally, Stiles sat up on the bed and smiled. “Hey.”

Despite the strain that stretched the air tight between everyone, Derek appeared to move on instinct, swatting Stiles on the back of the head with his book. The action got a furrowed brow from his dad, but Stiles was already jerking into action.

“Oh, right.” he blurted. “Dad, these are my friends. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and you remember Lydia and Allison.” It was the same order he would use during a treaty or pack meeting, minus Scott, and with one other notable exception. “And you’ve met Derek before.”

Whatever Stiles had been expecting when Derek met his dad again, it wasn’t what happened. Derek didn’t say anything, didn’t sit up, just made quiet eye contact with the sheriff until Stiles’ dad shook his head and ordered Stiles out of the room.

Not wanting to make him wait, Stiles handed his book off to Derek and crawled off the bed. As he reached the door, he sensed the slow sparking energy in the room and turned around. Everyone was looking at him, anxious and uncertain. Derek’s expression was the strongest, hesitant and a little scared. Stiles knew they’d be gone as soon as he was out of sight.

“Stay.” It was less of a request than a plea, but he put as much force into it as he could manage. “Dinner should be done now, I’ll call you down once I get it on the table.” He wanted to make a quip about leaving him with leftovers, but he was too on edge.

This wasn’t a good situation, and Stiles wasn’t sure why’d they’d let his father even get in the house before they disappeared. The only person who could have made them stay was Derek. But why?

His dad wasn’t aware of werewolf hearing, and he didn’t bother going very far before rounding on Stiles. “What’s the excuse this time? Study party? You all just met up on accident, right? I assume Derek Hale decided to go back to high school as well, and he just happened to get chosen as your lab partner. Come on, what’s it gonna be?” He looked riled and angry, and if Stiles didn’t know better, a little scared himself.

“They’re just here to hang out, Dad.” It was the truth, and a relatively innocent one. Stiles didn’t get to tell his father a lot of truth these days, so he relished it.

But his answer only agitated his dad further, and the sheriff’s face went a little red. “Stiles, do you realize every one of those kids has been in my station for one reason or another? Derek Hale was a wanted fugitive, on  _ your _ testimony! Runaways, witnesses to murders, suspected murderers! All those times you said you had nothing to do with it, and there they are, one of them in your bed!”

The implication was clear, and Stiles bristled, in spite of himself. They were his pack, family. Worst of all, they were less than a dozen feet from his closed door, and they could hear every poisonous word his father spoke. “How can you talk about them like that? You know what they’ve gone through! Every single one of them,  _ especially _ Derek. I was wrong, okay? I should never have accused him, but I didn’t have all the answers and I was scared. But he’s innocent! They all are!”

With a shaky breath, his dad deflated. Stiles put his newly tactile nature to good use and pulled him down into a strong hug. He sank into the smell of musky cologne and old leather, scenting as subtly as he could and wishing he’d appreciated how important scent was back when his mother was alive so he could remember what she’d smelled like.

Huffing as deeply as any wolf, his dad muttered quietly into Stiles’ neck, “I’m sorry, son. I know, I know they are. I just saw you around them, and it was like watching everything that happened last year all over again. Just scared me a little, is all.” He was a good dad, and a better Sheriff, and Stiles knew he’d never have intentionally judged the pack.

Stiles sighed, and the words rolled off his tongue. “They’re  _ rodzina _ , dad.”

The Polish made his dad freeze, and Stiles didn’t blame him. It was like a faery language to them after his mother’s death. Even the simplest words had a deeper meaning, a deep truth, and they were hesitant to speak it without serious intent. They didn’t  _ lie _ in Polish: they couldn’t. To say the pack was  _ rodzina _ was to unequivocally claim them as family.

When Noah pulled away, Stiles kept eye contact, reassuring him it wasn’t a slip of the tongue.

“Do I want to know?” His dad asked, all the usual exasperation gone from his tone.

He wanted the truth, so Stiles gave it to him. “Yes. But not right now.”

Sighing heavily, his dad straightened up and patted Stiles on the shoulder with a warm hand. “Then let’s go get  _ kolacja _ .” The language didn’t flow as easily for the Stilinski men as it had for the woman who taught them, but it warmed Stiles anyway.

Dinner had been slow cooking for almost an hour, and the maple glaze dripped over top of the chicken was mouthwatering enough Stiles was sure the pack could smell it, but he took time to shift the pans onto trivets at the table while his dad laid out plates. When everything was as ready as it could be, Stiles walked back up the steps as nonchalantly as he could, his heart pounding the whole way.

He couldn’t deny that he was scared they would be gone. He couldn’t even say he would be surprised. But they were there, shifting around in their seats as Stiles pushed the door open.

“Dinner’s re—”

The force of Scott barreling into Stiles cut him off. Even getting a haircut over the summer didn’t prevent Scott from burying Stiles in his soft brown hair as he clung, and after a moment there was another thud as someone joined the hug. Isaac, if the chin on the top of Stiles’ head was anything to go by.

They knew better by now, and the crush of the hug didn’t last long. After the initial excitement, Erica and Boyd and Lydia took turns hugging Stiles with varying levels of intensity. The clear and organized affection had Stiles’ cheeks burning red, but he didn’t understand what the occasion was until Scott stole a last embrace.

“You’re family too, Stiles.”

And suddenly there was a lump in Stiles’ throat that he couldn’t swallow. He’d forgotten telling Scott what  _ rodzina _ meant. Stiles’ eyes were burning now along with his face, threatening to make him look like a complete sap, but he coughed to clear his throat and shoved it all down until he could smile again.

It was easier to pretend nothing had happened, so Stiles slipped through the cracks of his pack circle and held a hand out to his Alpha, who was still sitting quietly on the bed. Derek had yet to say anything, but he took Stiles’ hand in a firm grasp and let the slightly shorter man pull him up until they were standing chest to chest with their clasped hands between them. After a split second of hesitation, Derek swung Stiles into a one armed hug.

Stiles’ first thought was how incredibly unfair it was that Derek didn’t hug people more. He was amazing at it, even with one hand trapped between their chests. He was warm and the crush of his arm around Stiles’ back was grounding. For the mere second they hugged, Stiles got a massive hit of the sandalwood that’d been on his pillow, and he let himself take an unashamed breath.

Then it was gone, and Derek stepped out of Stiles’ space altogether, the tips of his ears pink. Rather than let things go quiet, Stiles just smiled and waved everyone out the door. They followed him down the stairs, much like at the clinic, and crowded behind him as he entered the dining room where his father waited.

A similar pinging in Stiles chest to the one he’d felt in front of Braeden made his hackles raise. Unthinking, Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and moved to stand almost directly in front of Derek, cutting him off from the Sheriff’s calculating gaze.

“Dad—”

“Hi! I’m Erica!” Erica bounded forward and held out a hand, grinning widely and innocently. “Can I call you Boss?”

Stiles’ dad flushed a little, and took the offered hand for a soft handshake. “Noah is fine, or Sheriff.”

Boyd came up and took his own handshake. “Boyd. Nice to meet you, properly.”

Lydia’s was less of a handshake and more like the way royalty held their hands out to be kissed, but her smile was warm. “We’ve met like five times, but hey, I’m Lydia.”

As each of the pack introduced themselves, they headed over to the table and took their seats, muttering and chittering under their breath while they waited for everyone else. It was an unspoken tradition to wait for Derek to sit down before eating, and Stiles was happy to see them continuing it in unfamiliar territory.

Once Scott gave Stiles’ dad a quick hug, the only one left was Derek. Stiles was still standing in front of him, battling with contradicting instincts that told him his father was both a safe point and a threat at the same time. The last thing he wanted was for his dad to make another offhand comment about Derek’s record.

His fears were unwarranted, as his dad held his hand out first. “Derek, good to see you.”

Derek put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, pressing him lightly to the side so he could reach around and finish the gesture. “Sheriff. Thank you for having us.”

The Sheriff’s eyebrows rose, and he looked around at the teenagers waiting in their seats.

“I mean, Isaac and me.” Derek didn’t bother explaining more, and Stiles realized he didn’t need to. His dad would already know about Derek adopting Isaac. One less thing to worry about.

Dinner started off very awkward. Everyone was seated, and Stiles passed food around until everyone’s plates were full, but no one moved to eat. Despite his father’s presence, Stiles was calming down enough to finally joke, “If you let my food get cold, you don’t get leftovers.”

And they were off, digging in and starting tiny conversations with each other until Noah spoke. “So, I take it Stiles has cooked for you before?”

Erica didn’t hesitate as she bit down on a forkful of sweet potato. “Almost every night.”

Having inadvertently admitted to Stiles  _ not _ being at Scott’s house over the summer, Erica froze, but Noah just shook his head knowingly. “Claudia taught Stiles a lot, and he likes cooking for family.”

The relaxed acceptance made all the difference, and throughout the rest of dinner the pack tried to include Stiles’ dad in their conversations. It was still a little awkward, and Derek barely said a word, but it was good. Stiles was still reeling from having one less lie to tell his dad, and from agreeing to tell the most important truth sometime in the future, so he ate in silence as well.

For the first time, Stiles got to spend the night with his  _ whole _ family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, come on, if they were a real pack in the show, the Sheriff would find out SO quickly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, a little introspection, and a bit of a reveal to self.

House arrest was much easier when Stiles didn’t actually have to spend it alone. For the next week Stiles’ afternoons were spent either relaxing with Derek in his room, or piling onto the couches downstairs with the whole pack, watching movies or playing videogames.

When it was just Stiles and Derek, they didn’t talk about the meeting with the Alphas, or even about mates. Instead, Derek filled Stiles in on the more general information he’d been missing out on.

“Things are different for bitten wolves. I’ve been controlling myself since I was a kid, but the Betas and Scott are only starting to deal with the enhanced emotions that come with being a werewolf now.” Derek’d given up on whatever he’d been looking at on the laptop he’d brought with, and it was laying forgotten on the side of the bed while the Alpha lectured.

Stiles was writing down everything he could, practicing his shorthand in order to keep up. “What do you mean, enhanced emotions?”

Derek actually laughed, and Stiles basked in the sound. “You think their behavior is normal? They aren’t just having trouble controlling their emotions, Stiles, the emotions themselves are stronger than the average human. We feel everything,  _ more. _ Subtlety is not our strong suit, and while it’s part of me, they’re gonna to be thrown for a loop.

“Is that why Scott was so gagworthy when he was with Allison?” Stiles joked.

“Actually, yes.” Derek frowned a little. “Part of the reason I was so...difficult...about them being together, was that Scott didn’t have ahold of his normal feelings, let alone new love. His wolf was controlling him, instead of vice versa.”

Balking a little, Stiles nearly dropped his pencil. “His wolf? I thought you said there wasn’t one.”

There was another laugh that nearly made Stiles melt, and he watched Derek loop his hands together on the coverlet before speaking. “Not for me. In our world, when someone is bitten we call them a ‘werewolf’, when they’re born, we tend to prefer just ‘wolf’. There’s no distinction for me. What my wolf side wants, and what I want are the same. But, it takes years for a werewolf to find that balance, and sometimes the human half fights with the wolf half.”

It was just what Stiles had thought, about Derek not needing to argue with some inner version of himself. It sounded wonderful, but also a little frightening. There was no ‘wolf side’ to blame when Derek threatened people, or when he lost his temper. It was all him. But, so was his behavior with the pack, and the warmth he’d begun to show with them all.

Stiles was completely fascinated, and he ended up dragging Derek into long-winded explanations of pack homes and histories. By the time Stiles was called down for dinner, he had pages upon pages of notes to go through and organize.

Derek never stayed for dinner when he was at Stiles’ by himself, but considering his history with the Sheriff, Stiles didn’t really blame him. He did kind of blame him for refusing to use the front door though, and the third time Derek insisted on climbing through the window as Stiles got back from school, he took action.

Instead of letting Derek escape onto the roof, Stiles dragged him down the stairs and into the living room before saying goodbye. His appearance surprised Noah, but after claiming the pack as family, his dad hadn’t questioned any of their visits. As he’d hoped, his dad was cool and collected, offering a handshake and a pleasant goodbye as they headed for the front door.

It was a first step, and the next night when the pack arrived for gaming, they arrived at his door and not his windowsill. Once everyone claimed spots on the couch and floor in front of the television, and they’d worked out a gaming order to keep everyone busy, Stiles took a careful look at his pack members.

Allison was there again, giggling with Lydia and throwing challenging looks Scott’s way as she adjusted her grip on her Xbox controller. She’d been coming to nearly every gathering, muttering quietly about who had invited her this time, and Stiles made a mental note to just add her to the group texts. Derek didn’t seem bothered by her anymore, and if she showed Derek due deference, there was no reason she wouldn’t eventually become pack.

Lydia had her phone out, talking and typing at the same time, laughing freely whenever one of the Betas tried to smack talk each other. In the presence of the pack, she relaxed the facade Stiles was used to seeing in school. Rather than a full face of makeup, she more often left on some lipgloss and forewent the rest, and her hair was usually in some kind of high bun to avoid entanglement. All of this had no effect on her beauty, and Stiles was a little shocked to notice the particular brand of giddiness on Allison’s face as they chatted. The one he used to see on Scott before he and Isaac settled into their relationship.

Sometimes it was hard to think of Erica and Boyd as separate beings, but tonight they were about as separated as they ever were. Which is to say, they weren’t actively sucking face or lost in their own world as they whispered to each other. Erica was growling lightly at Isaac’s wandering hands, which had found their way to her bag of Skittles. After a moment, she abruptly stopped and dug a couple out to throw in the air for him. So, the wolf had been in control then. Whenever Erica was truly being Erica, she was quiet and helpful. The wolf pushed her to be more demanding and defensive, something she’d been bad at as a human.

On the other end of the spectrum was Boyd, whose wolf was the main motivator for him to be more social. Even now, Stiles could see the surprise in Boyd’s eyes as he realized he’d been talking openly and intensely with Scott about which game they should play. Being a werewolf meant Boyd had absolutely no chance of becoming isolated again. Good.

Isaac and Scott were quickly becoming similar stories, spending so much time together it was hard to differentiate. But Scott’s differences were easier to pick out because Stiles had so much experience with him from  _ before _ . Of all the pack, Stiles had to admit Scott seemed to be the one with the least control. Maybe it had something to do with his true Alpha status that was still dormant, but he was the most likely to lose his temper or get high on adrenaline. He was just as excited around Isaac, if not more, and Stiles was secretly relieved that this time he’d fallen for a werewolf that could share his feelings. If they were as deep as Derek said they could be, he deserved someone who felt the same.

He was talking to Boyd and cuddling with Isaac at the same time, completely unabashed, even with Allison in the room. Like he couldn’t stand to be away from him if he didn’t have to. Stiles made a mental note to discuss it with Derek, when the Sourwolf was calm enough to talk about mates. He always got angry or frustrated halfway through the conversation and just shut down for no reason.

Shaking his head to stop himself from going down that rabbit hole again, Stiles looked at Isaac. He’d changed almost as much as Erica, with the bite. Like her, he was more willing to stand up for himself, and less shy than he’d been before. Stiles had barely noticed he was on the lacrosse team before he turned, but now he was charismatic, at least with the pack. Catching Skittles in his mouth, and occasionally with his fingers so he could give it to Scott, he looked carefree for once.

Erica had once asked Stiles whether he had a list of who he liked most in the pack, and he’d told her no. It was the truth. He’d loved Scott the longest, but they all mattered to him way more than he was willing to admit. So no, he didn’t have a list of who he liked, but he did have one of who he felt needed him the most.

Stiles was fixated on it, he knew. Who needed him, who wanted him, how much he could do, how useful he could be. He didn’t even want praise, he just wanted to help. After watching and experiencing everyone in the pack, he knew who he could help the most.

As much as he hated to admit it, hated to imagine he was that important, Derek was number one on Stiles’ list. Everyone kept making jokes about how blind Stiles was, but he wasn’t, really. He saw the difference between his interactions with Derek and everyone else’s. He knew how much harder Derek was to work with when Stiles wasn’t around to mediate. And he knew why. Derek had told him as much, that first day, the day Stiles considered the beginning of their relationship.

Stiles was neutral.

Of course he was meant to be the Emissary, and of course Derek had an easier time working with him, however much they argued. Stiles was the least biased member of the pack. He was unattached, so he didn’t have someone he was unreasonable about. While he considered Scott a brother, he could still see his flaws and play devil’s advocate when he needed to. Everyone in the pack liked him, and because they probably sensed how neutral he was too, they felt safe bringing their problems to him so he could work it out with Derek.

After Derek, was Isaac. It made sense that they were close. Stiles could see how they’d bonded over the loss of family and how careful Derek was with Isaac. No Alpha roars, no shoving him around. At least, not now that Derek felt safe in town again. But Isaac still needed the more emotional touch, and Stiles was there to provide. He liked hugging Isaac and letting the taller man scent him, cooking for him, and cheering him on at everything. Being nice to him was easy, and it made the young wolf glow with happiness.

Erica came next, simply because she was the kind of person Stiles used to be friends with before everything happened and he’d had to abandon human friends to keep them safe. They watched shows together and geeked out over comics with Isaac once in a while. He enjoyed giving her a little bit of normalcy, letting her have fun doing something not inherently wolflike.

The list plateaued around Scott, Lydia, Boyd, and now Allison. None of them  _ really _ needed him, but when he found spaces he could fill, he did his best. Three months, and Stiles felt like he knew them inside and out. He didn’t have the extra senses to help things along, but he recognized everyone’s individual presence. Who was quiet and who was loud, who stepped carefully and who crashed into everything like he did. Who would let him sleep, and who would wake him up just to point something out to him.

Speaking of being awake, Stiles was fighting to stay that way. He’d been as excited as everyone else about gaming, hoping to kick Erica’s ass for once instead of the other way around, but practice had been brutal.

Scoring the winning goal in the finals had been enough to keep Stiles on the front line this year, but Coach Finstock insisted on morning practices along with the after school ones, and lacrosse was not a gentle game. Stiles was covered in bruises, and when he tried to shift around to a position that would help him stay alert, his whole body protested being moved from the squishy dent he’d made in the couch.

He didn’t remember making any noise, but as he forced his way into sitting up properly, crossing his legs under him, a hand came down on his shoulder and sucked away some of the ache. Unable to resist the bonelessness that spread through him, Stiles collapsed to the side and landed with his head on a black jean clad thigh.

“D’you realize that shit’s like Nyquil?” He mumbled, words mashing together and eyes blinking heavily to stay open. “Can you guys even take Nyquil? Does normal medicine even work on you? Oh my god, how do you deal with headaches?”

His pillow shifted a little, and he could  _ hear _ the smirk as Derek said, “Usually by telling you to shut up.”

There was the sound of a game starting up, but when Stiles tried to lift his head and reach for a controller, another hand swiped it off the couch. The hand belonged to Isaac, that traitor. “Sorry Mom, but you need a nap or something.”

And Stiles couldn’t even be mad. Every time one of the Betas called him Mom it stuck more and more, and now he actually liked it. Hell yeah, he was Mom. He took care of his pack, and he was good at it.

Without the imminent gaming to keep him awake, Stiles was falling asleep fast. He lost the fight to keep his eyes open in seconds, and when he tried to move his hand to swat at the snarky wolf sitting in front of the couch, it didn’t do more than twitch. So he gave in, snuffling his face into the jean pillow and grumbling what he hoped was a brilliant retort that would leave everyone in the room stunned at his cunning. 

He might’ve gotten out a vague “‘kay”.

Eventually there was a disturbance in the force, and Stiles swam his way up from his dreams into consciousness as quickly as his foggy brain would allow. Blinking and yawning, Stiles lifted his head from his makeshift pillow and glared around the room, trying to find whatever had cut his nap short.

Everyone was still gaming, and getting destroyed by an Erica-Allison duo by the sounds of it, so Stiles didn’t see what the problem was until he looked up at the entryway to the front hall. His father stood there, in full uniform, gun still in its holster. He was a little pale, and Stiles almost asked if he was okay, before realizing his situation.

The gist of it was, he was kind of wrapped up in Derek. At some point in his sleep, he’d shifted from one leg pillow to the other, leaving his whole chest covering Derek’s lap. One of his arms was shoved around Derek’s waist and therefore pinned between his back and the couch, and the other was tucked under his knee.

Derek himself wasn’t much better, with an arm over Stiles’ shoulder to continue leeching any pain, and his free hand now frozen where it’d likely been carding through Stiles hair. He felt a bit sad that he’d missed it.

Underneath Stiles, Derek’s legs were rock hard. He now realized that the shift he’d felt in his sleep was Derek tensing, turning his previously soft thighs into iron. Numbly, Stiles twisted the wrist that was under Derek’s knee and poked at one, just to see if it would give way to pillowy niceness again.

No chance of that, and Derek seemed to snap out of his spooked position for the sole purpose of swatting Stiles softly upside the head. It didn’t hold the same heat when he’d left his fingers in Stiles’ hair.

“Rude, turn them back. I’m tired,” Stiles pouted.

Derek pulled his gaze from the Sheriff to stare at Stiles, dumbfounded. 

Oh. Right. “Hi, Dad. Dinner is...” Stiles finished the half thought with full body shrug, hoping Noah would understand what he meant.

Pausing the game, Scott shifted in his seat on the floor and shuffled backwards, jostling Stiles’ hand. After a moment he had one arm wrapped around Derek’s left leg and was resting his temple against Derek’s knee. It was more intentional contact than he ever used with the Alpha, but Scott didn’t flinch and just finished Stiles’ sentence for him. “He means, dinner is the lasagnas that he bought. I stuck them in the oven a while ago, but I might’ve turned the temperature on too low. They still aren’t done yet.”

As both Stiles and Derek watched in shock, Isaac cuddled up to Derek’s other leg without even stopping the phone game he’d been tapping at. Next to Stiles’ face, Erica leaned against Derek’s open side like it was something she did every day, and Stiles finally realized what they were doing.

Clearly, his position with the Alpha looked bad to the Sheriff, and without starting an argument the easiest way to diffuse the tension was to make it seem normal. Stiles had been trying to get the pack to be more tactile with Derek for ages, but it was seeing Derek upset that actually did the trick.

There was heavy silence. Scott hadn’t unpaused the game, and Stiles’ range of view was limited by how high he could lift his head from his position, so for all he knew, the pack was just staring down his dad. Apparently they needed just a little bit more of a push.

Happy to oblige, Stiles groaned dramatically and dropped like a dead weight back onto Derek’s lap. “Wake me when food is ready.”

Someone giggled, probably Allison, who still wasn’t used to Stiles and Derek herself. Then, magically, Derek’s fingers began to move again, and the rock that Stiles had slammed his nose into relaxed. Stiles didn’t have to look up to know his dad must’ve left the living room, and he might never look up again if it meant keeping the soothing pressure on his scalp. It was like the massage hairdressers give you while they wash your hair, combined with one of those spidery, broken-whisk-looking things you run over your head to relieve stress.

Stiles was asleep again in moments, and no one woke him again until dinner was done. Even sitting around the table, the pack adjusted their behavior. They were about as tactile with Derek, as they usually were with Stiles at the pack house. Now that he wasn’t half asleep, Stiles got to enjoy the near bashfulness Derek was obviously trying to suppress. He couldn’t seem to make eye contact with anyone, and Stiles saw him smother more than one bunny toothed smile over the course of the meal. It was glorious.

The fun couldn’t last very long, and once the pack left for the night, Stiles’ dad was waiting for him in the living room, leaning against the back of their old grey couch. At least this time there wouldn’t be any werewolves in the house to overhear.

But it wasn’t as bad as Stiles thought it would be. His dad didn’t even look angry, just confused.

“Do you...are you all...what exactly did I walk in on before?”

Before Stiles could feign innocence, Noah raised an eyebrow. Yeah, it was probably too late for that. So instead, Stiles chanced something close to the truth. “What you saw, that was pretty normal for us.” So were fangs and claws and near death situations, but it was better to ease Noah into it.

His dad opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again and apparently decided to just barrel forward. “Son, what is the nature of your relationship with Derek Hale?”

It was like playing chess, explaining the truth without revealing too much of the  _ truth _ , but Stiles was good at staying a step ahead. So he started general, and worked his way inward. “About the same as Scott’s, and Erica’s, and all the others. We’re buds.” Stiles sighed at the blank look on his dad’s face. “Dad, you said so yourself. All of my friends, they’ve gotten in trouble recently. That’s not Derek’s fault, but once he met us, he kind of took us under his wing anyway. He decided that we were  _ rodzina _ and he’s been taking care of us ever since. That’s why he adopted Isaac, and why he was the one to bring Erica and Boyd back after they ran away. And before you go getting all angry about his age, just remember that you  _ like _ Derek. It’s impossible not to like him, when he puts in the effort to behave.”

“That still doesn’t explain all the…” The Sheriff waved his hands around a little to signify the cuddling, and Stiles saw where he got the movement from.

Stiles snorted, “That’s just how we are. Isaac practically worships the ground Derek walks on, Erica and Boyd imprinted on him like ducks or something, and you’ve seen Scott. He’s like a damn koala.” There was one animal comparison that would fit the pack like a glove, but Stiles didn’t want to tempt fate yet.

“And you?”

That was a little harder to explain. Sure, Stiles could blow it off as him just being clingy, or weird. Because he was both of those things. But however much he loved the Betas, and Scott, and even the other humans of the pack, Stiles couldn’t say that he was as tactile with them as he was with their Alpha.

There were a lot of things that Stiles just decided not to question. Like how just standing next to Derek was enough to abate an anxiety attack sometimes, or how Stiles stuck a welcome mat underneath his bedroom window just so Derek would have somewhere to put his boots when he visited. Or how Derek was the one person, bar when he’d had his nightmare, that didn’t make Stiles claustrophobic with close contact.

Stiles loved to hug and cuddle and share space with his pack, but being pinned down in any way was extremely upsetting, and had been since Stiles started having panic attacks after his mom’s death. Not understanding what was happening, Stiles’ father had brought him to the hospital, and he’d been strapped down because a nurse thought he was going to hurt himself. He’d avoided hugs for over a month afterward.

Yet Stiles had let Derek close him in with an arm while he lay on his lap, and every time they shared a sleeping space, Derek held him in place in one way or another and it hadn’t bothered Stiles at all.

For most of the time that Stiles knew him, Derek was a pinnacle of self control. He didn’t move if he didn’t want to, could stop any action at a moment’s notice. Hell, he didn’t even trip over things, the graceful asshole.

Excepting the few moments that Derek had intentionally been trying to make Stiles uncomfortable, all before last summer, when Stiles wanted him to stop, he stopped. Instantaneously, and without question. It made Stiles feel safe in a way even his dad couldn’t provide, human that he was.

So, he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t give him away, but his silence seemed to be enough of an answer for his dad. “ _ Stiles _ , he’s six years older than you.”

Stiles might not’ve been able to deny his own feelings, he barely even knew what they were, but he wasn’t about to let his dad take any parental frustration out on Derek. He’d gotten enough of that from the Argents. “No! We’re not—that’s not a thing that’s happening. Have you seen him? No way—wait. You were eight years older than Mom! Even if we were—” Stiles flailed a little, rather than say the words out loud, “Which we aren’t! But if we were, you have no room to talk.”

“I’m your father, I  _ always _ have room to talk.” Noah reminded him. But his words had lost their bite, and he was watching Stiles with suddenly glassy eyes. Even after seven years, just the mention of her was enough. Stiles would have felt bad, but sometimes he felt like it was the only way to get through the overprotective exterior his dad had developed. He had to crack the shell and shove something meaningful inside. The harsh method worked, and after both of them had taken a deep breath, Noah put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder before deciding it wasn’t good enough and shifting it to the back of Stiles’ neck. “Just, answer me this. Yes or no, are you safe and are you happy? With the lot of them, not just Derek.”

“Yes. Of course, yes. To both, to all. Dad, I told you, they’re  _ rodzina _ .” Stiles was whispering by the end, more focused on pushing the truth at his dad through his eyes than with his words.

That was the end of it, as far as the Sheriff was concerned. With a too tight hug and a too rare kiss to the forehead, he left Stiles to finish putting away the dishes that Scott had insisted on washing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, listen up. My writing has been going hard for the last month, and I'm amazed at my progress, but because I've had so many ideas to try working on, I haven't been able to completely keep up with writing a chapter every 2/3 days. Because of this, I'm going to take a little break from updating so I can get ahead again and keep you guys wit semi-regular updates. Trust me, this is better than if I only updated when I had a new chapter written, because fics like that have been known to get abandoned.  
> I need you to know beforehand that the fact that I'm doing this after posting *this* chapter, is Entirely coincidental. I love you all, and I hope you'll forgive me.

Stiles’ confinement to the house lasted until the night before they left for the evaluation, because there was no point in keeping him home on a Friday night. Even though he already had plans to stay the night at the pack house so they could leave early the next morning, he was itching to get out of his own home.

In a spur of the moment idea, Stiles called the number he had for Heather’s cell. To his surprise she actually picked up, and he was quick to introduce himself. “Hey! It’s Stiles.”

“Yeah, I know.” There was a giggle. “I do have you in my contacts, Stiles. How’s it going?”

Fist pumping at his success, Stiles twirled in a circle around his room to keep his body busy while he talked. “Nothing much, I just wanted to apologize for bailing before. And then for not calling you until now. I owe you a lot of apologies.” He laughed a little, grateful for the giggle in response. Heather always was easygoing.

“Tell you what? I’ll forgive you if you promise to hang out with me sometime. I really want to catch up with you. My dad mentioned that he heard from your dad about you winning the championship game last spring. I need details!” she squealed. There she went again, sounding like Stiles was some popular jock that graced her with his presence. If she only knew how completely pathetic the majority of his team and school thought he was.

It was a good in, and Stiles took it. With his most convincing drawl, he offered. “Deal. I’m actually free right now, if you are. Whaddya say? We can watch  _ Bug’s Life _ and I’ll bring the gummy worms.”

There was more giggling. Finally, Stiles found someone who appreciated his humor. “I’m not actually nine anymore, Stiles, but sure. Give me twenty minutes?” she asked.

After stopping at a gas station for the promised goodies, Stiles pulled up in front of Heather’s house and wandered up to the front door. He’d barely knocked when it flew open to reveal Heather. In a towel.

Stiles paused for a moment, still holding an armful of gummy worm packages. He glued his gaze on her eyes, well practiced in the art of avoiding ogling beautiful women. He was surrounded by them. Allison, Lydia, and Erica were all supernaturally gorgeous, though two of them were human, and aside from them being his friends and him wanting to respect women in general, they’d all probably have killed Stiles if he looked at them wrong anyway. So yeah, he had a lot of practice.

“Sorry! I just got out.” Heather was grinning widely, apparently nonplussed about being sopping wet and mostly naked in front of Stiles. It probably should have wounded his pride that she didn’t mind, but Erica did the same thing at least once a week, just to bug him.

To preserve her modesty, Stiles looked down at his pile of sugary goods and began to shift them around to a less precarious position. The last thing he needed was to drop them. “No problem, I can just wait in the living room or set up the movie.”

Heather shifted to the side until there was enough space for Stiles to slip past her before leading him down the hall as though he didn’t already have the house layout memorized. But she turned off before they reached the living room and headed down the basement stairs. “Let’s watch in the den instead. My parents aren’t gonna be home for a while, so we have the place to ourselves.”

The steps led to her dad’s wine cellar, but she ignored the expensive alcohol and went to the back of the area, where an archway led to the coziest room Stiles had ever seen. When Heather called it a den, she had no idea how right she was. The walls were a warm brown, and the carpet was creamy softness that Stiles would happily have rolled around on if he didn’t think Heather would instantly kick him out.

There was already a pile of blankets on the floor in front of a giant plush green couch, and the movie’s menu screen was waiting on the television. Stiles couldn’t help but wonder why Heather had waited to take her shower _ last _ . He didn’t remember her being as spacey as he was about that stuff.

Taking in the color scheme and decor so he could mention it to Lydia, Stiles whistled lowly and said, “I can’t believe this used to be your playroom. It looks awesome! My pa-Polish cousins, the ones you met before? They’d love it!”

At this rate, Stiles wasn’t going to be able to have any human friends. Everything about the way he lived his life was altered somehow by the supernatural, and the dialogue issues were only the tip of the iceberg. He carried around a ziploc bag of mountain ash in his backpack, and knew every semi-poisonous plant native to the state. Stiles had an insatiable urge to eavesdrop on any conversation referring to the supernatural, and he wasn’t above listening in on an Edward versus Jakob argument just in case they were codewords.

Oblivious to Stiles’ slipup, Heather sat on the arm of the couch and looked down at the fuzzy brown and blue blankets on the floor. Her face was slightly red as she admitted, “Actually, I kind of got the idea from them. At least, for us watching the movie in here. You and I haven’t seen much of each other, and I want to get to know you again. Your family seems really, uh, close to you. I thought it might make you more comfortable.”

Stiles was torn between how incredibly sweet it was for Heather to have paid that much attention to him, and how badly he and the pack failed at being subtle.

He settled on the sweet side and collapsed onto the nest happily. “You’re awesome,” he said, before realizing she was still barely covered. “Uh, I can wait here then, so you can put some clothes on. You must be cold.”

When she returned a few minutes later, it was in a pink tank top and a pair of shorts that probably didn’t do much to shield her from the slightly too strong A/C. Already flicking the play button on the remote, Stiles wordlessly lifted up the other end of the blanket he’d put over his lap.

Heather climbed under it with a smile, but Stiles blinked down at her instead of watching the opening credits. Considering the last time they’d hung out was almost two years ago, Stiles was pretty sure it was out of the ordinary for Heather to be nestled against his side.

He was ready to dismiss it out of sheer habit, but he was sharply reminded that Heather wasn’t part of his pack when she slipped her arms around his waist and squeezed slightly. Stiles tried, he really did, to stay still and relaxed. Heather didn’t know any better, as the last time they’d been close enough for hugs like this he hadn’t had any problem with it. But now, he was wincing with every breath that was trapped by her embrace.

It wasn’t fair to compare her to them, but Stiles couldn’t help but think that no one in his pack would have done it. Over the last summer, Scott had brought everybody up to speed on Stiles’ personal space needs, though he’d tried to deny it. After one too many relentless hugs that left Stiles in a panic, Scott had visited the pack house a few hours before Stiles arrived, and suddenly they had stopped. After that it was only in bursts of emotion that he was squeezed a little too tightly—and no one ever crossed his chest or held him down—but by then Derek was around to growl them off lightly.

Attempting to distract himself, Stiles asked, “So, how have things been lately?” It was the most vague, useless question he could possibly have thought of, but he was struggling to breathe properly let alone hold a conversation.

Stiles wasn’t even entirely sure why he was so intent on not pointing out his discomfort. He only knew that the thought of explaining his issues was deeply upsetting. Things had been easier when he just had Scott, who’d been there through it all and understood that Stiles’ loss and subsequent hospital stay had changed him. He’d even protected Stiles from the embarrassment of explaining to the pack. And that was the core of it. It was embarrassing.

Somehow even having Derek around, whose touch didn’t bring the same distress, almost made Stiles feel worse. How real was his aversion if there were certain people he could stand or even enjoy closeness with? How real was it if he could control his reaction, like he was right now?

He was beginning to tremble slightly when Heather responded with a giggle, “Fine, I guess. I still go to the same high school, I still have most of the same interests, and I still have all the same friends. What about you?” She tilted her head up at Stiles, who’d trained his eyes on the television to avoid scanning the room in his distress. “Are your cousins still in town?”

“Uh, yeah. They, uh, they go to my school actually,” he said, his voice thankfully steady. The two of them were leaned back against the couch, Stiles’ arms draped over the cushions, and when he glanced over at his hand, it was shaking against the soft fabric. Flicking his wrist a little in frustration, he shoved his fingers inbetween the cushions to hold them still. There had to be a way to move, to get free without looking like a crazy person, but he just couldn’t think.

Heather was still watching him, frowning slightly. “I thought you said they were visiting from out of state?”

Shit. Had he said that? “Y-yeah, they were. I mean, they were visiting before, but it was just before they moved to town. Kind of a, blended family situation. Gummy worms?” Stiles shot forward, breaking Heather’s embrace and snagging one of the packets of sugary sweets from their pile on the floor between them. He stayed a little ways away, kneeling on the carpet and tearing open the edge of the bag to snatch a gummy out and take a bite. He chewed slowly, trying to give himself time to calm down.

“Oh, right. So, does Derek go to school with you too?” Heather asked, politely taking the other bag that Stiles handed over and digging in. She sounded almost too nonchalant, like she couldn’t think of literally anything else to say.

Just the thought of Derek was enough to loosen Stiles’ chest, and now that he’d given up the pretense of not understanding the reason why Derek had that effect on him, Stiles felt more than a little pathetic. It wasn’t like Derek did anything particularly  _ special _ that made Stiles secretly wish he was around to help him calm down. He was just always there, always making his presence known as though he could scare away the panic if he frowned hard enough. Stiles thought of Derek’s grounding touches and surprisingly soft voice, and that rumbling in his chest that Stiles could only compare to a purr, that was so quiet Stiles only knew it happened because he could feel it whenever Derek crowded him...was it any wonder Stiles associated all of that with enough comfort and safety to sooth his anxiety?

Feeling relaxed enough to drop back onto his butt and cross his legs, Stiles shook his head. “Nah, he’s already out of school. And I think he already went to college. Anyway, he’s old enough to have finished it by now.”

Heather blinked, “So he’s older. Is that what he meant by ‘kids’? Is he a dad?”

Stiles almost laughed, but it froze in his throat as he remembered Derek fussing over Isaac’s homework and wrestling with Boyd and Scott and even the time he’d walked in on Derek braiding Erica’s hair. Maybe it really did make sense that the pack didn’t call Stiles “Dad”. That job was filled.

But it wasn’t like he could explain that to Heather, who was human and likely wouldn’t understand how a 23 year old was a parent to a bunch of teenagers. “No, no. That night he was, um, babysitting. Well, I was supposed to be watching them, but he agreed to do it until I got there. That’s why I had to leave, they were pitching a fit for no reason.” He scowled slightly, thinking of his possessive Betas.

Thankfully Heather seemed to accept that answer, and Stiles felt safe enough to return to his spot, keeping a little extra space between them this time. They watched the movie in silence for a while, and Stiles found himself pulled into the bug circus as though he hadn’t seen the movie at least a dozen times already. Just as an innocent fly threw itself at a bug zapper, Heather spoke up again.

“Stiles?”

“Uh huh?” He wasn’t really paying much attention, caught up in the intricacies of miniature resources being used for practical means. Eating human food in smaller portions was one thing, but Flik had a backpack made out of a leaf, and he’d practically invented a combine harvester in the first scene. How far did the similarities go, and did the bugs learn their designs from humans, or did they just evolve to the same thing naturally?

There was a rustling beside him, and soft hair tickled Stiles’ arm. “Is Derek your boyfriend?”

Stiles choked on the piece of gummy worm he’d been chewing and had to lean over and bang on his own chest to unblock his windpipe. “What?” he gasped, “No! Derek’s, Derek. He’s just, he’s Derek.”

And really, he couldn’t think of a more articulate way to explain it. They were friends, Derek was his Alpha, possibly the member of the pack he was closest to now, though Stiles still considered Scott his brother. The burgeoning realization that Stiles wanted to be something much more than that with the older man didn’t change the fact that at best, Stiles was his Emissary, and at worst, a lowly member of the pack.

Heather had turned to him, apparently losing all interest in the movie. Her hair was still pretty damp, but it no longer clung to her face, curling slightly instead around her ears and on her shoulders. Her eyes were sparkling, and Stiles considered how nice it was that they were able to just fall back into their friendship.

Of course, telling her lie after lie after lie would suck royally, but maybe if he put in more effort, they could eventually get close enough to let her in on the secret. After he told his dad, though. His dad needed to know before anybody else.

“So you don’t have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend?” Heather questioned, smiling sweetly. Stiles had to admit, it was a pretty clever way to get them on a popular ‘getting to know you’ topic.

He shook his head again, chancing another bite of gummy worm before laying the empty packet at his feet. “Nope, not that I’d be against either one.” And that was possibly the smoothest coming out line Stiles had ever managed, too bad his dad wasn’t there to hear it. He got a bit more self conscious as he tried to explain himself without looking like too much of a loser. “Things have been kind of hectic for me lately, so I haven’t even been looking. I mean, I went to this club last year, but that was more business than pleasure, you know.” No, she couldn’t know. How could she know that he meant he was searching for a jock turned lizard with an identity complex?

But she was still smiling, for all the world like she understood. Stiles smiled back at her as brightly as he could. “So, what about y—oh!”

Somehow Heather had managed to get out from under the blanket and climb onto Stiles’ lap without losing eye contact. Her weight on his hips was relatively light, but Stiles was far too focused on the way she’d linked her wrists together behind his neck.

He blamed it, like everything else strange in his life, on the werewolves. They had all these unspoken rules that Scotty and the Betas just seemed to  _ know _ once they were bitten. When one of them managed to royally piss off Derek, past the point of Stiles being able to mediate, a huge part of their apology was the submission shown by lowering their eye contact. After a little research, Stiles knew that baring the back of the neck to a member of the pack was a sign of trust and compliance. There was also a whole thing about eye contact between members of the pack that Stiles had yet to really work out.

One of the biggest taboos that Stiles had accidentally screwed up within the first couple weeks, was touching Scott’s neck. Apparently throwing an arm over his shoulder was fine, it was actually protective and was weirdly good at calming Scott down. But specific touching, that was a no-no. The first time he’d done it after Scott got bit, he’d been thrown into a locker. Scott was a lot better about it now, especially since their pack had solidified, but it was still a sensitive thing.

Like Lydia, Stiles had quickly adapted to having the same reactions to those kinds of body language. The only person he tended to ignore the rules with was...Derek. The Alpha had the restraint of a saint, and seemed to forgive Stiles his clingy, stubborn nature because he was human and had zero impulse control.

Still, the press of Heather’s wrists against his neck posed a double threat, both from his human quirks and his newfound pack sensitivity. She was in his space, little puffs of minty breath tickling his growing hair, while the tiny wiggle of her hips turned his brain into an electric storm. What the hell was she doing?

Stunned, and quickly thrown back to the level of panic he’d just come down from, Stiles let the first thought he had drop from his mouth. “You’re not going to be able to watch the movie like that.”

Then talking wasn’t an option, as Heather was kissing him. Her lips were soft and the tiniest bit sticky, when had she put lipgloss on? They didn’t do much more than push against his own, and Stiles’ brain was moving about a thousand times too fast to do anything more than that.

A very, very large part of Stiles wanted to shove her away and leave. He was way too close to a panic attack and she was in his air, still squeezing the sides of his neck and pinning down his crossed legs and this was  _ not _ how he’d thought his first kiss would go.

But it wasn’t her  _ fault _ . Stiles should have listened when the Beta’s told him she was interested, and he should have made it clear right off the bat about needing extra room to breathe, and he was being kissed for fuck’s sake. How could that possibly be a bad thing? He’d been dreaming about it since falling in love with Lydia in the 3rd grade. If he had any sense, he’d kiss the life out of her and spend the next three months crowing about it to Scott every chance he got to make up for all the mushy Allison talk he’d had to deal with.

He didn’t want to, though. With strength he often forgot he had, Stiles pushed Heather away with hands on her shoulders and then tipped her off his lap. “I’m, look, I uh.”

Above them, the sound filtering through the open basement door, the doorbell rang. After a moment of frozen silence, it rang again, followed by rapid knocking that bordered on pounding.

“I’ll get that,” sputtered Stiles. It wasn’t his house, but suddenly Stiles just needed  _ out _ .

The bell rang twice before Stiles could get to the front door and pull it open, but once he did the frantic trembling of his hands paused.

“Derek?” For all that they’d ordered pizza together the night before, it felt like years since Stiles had seen his Alpha.

The man himself was frozen in place, a soft blue sweater mostly hidden by his signature jacket, with a fist up, probably just about to start banging. Stiles was surprised he hadn’t already kicked the door down, considering the points of his ears and the red ring beginning to bleed through his eyes. “Stiles!” he breathed, and in an instant the wolf faded away, leaving broody green and blue irises. There was no noticeable breath taken, like when Scott was trying to decipher unfamiliar smells, but the inquisitive look on Derek’s face was unmistakable. “St—?”

“Stiles! Who’s here?” chirped a voice that Stiles wasn’t in the mood to put a name to, and then a small thud against his back was the only warning before two arms slipped around his waist and contracted sharply.

Too much, way too much. Holy God. “Oh, my—” Stiles collapsed forward away from the touch and clung to the warm arms that caught him under the armpits and hauled him back up to his feet. Now he was standing next to Derek, facing a bewildered Heather and desperately trying not to melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

To have Derek see his panic was one thing, a nearly normal occurrence at this point. But Heather was a near stranger, however close they’d been as kids, and it was reflex to hide his breakdown from an audience. Though Stiles’ heart was pounding out of his chest and his breath was trying to stick in his throat, he shoved it all aside and hid his once more trembling hands in his jean pockets.

Heather was shifting from bare foot to bare foot just inside the door, blinking curiously at him. “Are you okay? Who’s this?” She moved her attention to Derek, voice accusing. “Who are you?”

The sourwolf looked wildly confused, and kept bouncing his gaze between the two humans. “I’m Derek.” As though that explained everything, and honestly, it kind of did in Stiles’ case.

“Yup. Speak of the devil. Heather, this is Derek. Derek, this is Heather, an old friend of mine.”

There were a few moments of just staring, during which Stiles tried and failed to smooth out his breathing again, so he covered up the panting with words. “Heather and I were just watching a movie, catching up on old times. We went to kindergarten together, you know. I missed her party a few weeks ago, so I figured this was a good way to make up for it.” Heather’s smile was tightening by the second, so Stiles switched tactics. “What’s up, S-Derek?”

The word came out slurred, sounding more like  _ Sterek _ than  _ Derek _ .

“I—You weren’t at your house. I was going to pick you up for...the meeting.” They’d agreed to only take Derek’s Camaro to the evaluation, but Stiles had hoped to leave his Jeep at the pack house rather than his own so he could drive home once they got back.

Derek was giving him the look, the one that said Stiles wasn’t as focused on the situation as he should be, so Stiles rubbed at his hair and tried to take stock through the fog. Right, pack night, best not to talk about it in front of Heather, who was human, who was still there.

Nodding emphatically now, Stiles agreed, “Right, the meeting.” He lifted his arm and stared down at his watchless wrist, “We’re probably going to be late to that. Sorry, Heather, but I should really be going.”

“What about the movie?” Heather sounded almost angry, and Stiles knew in the back of his mind that she had every right, but he just wanted to leave and this was the best opportunity he was going to get.

“Again, I’m really sorry. It’s just that we have some stuff we need to do tonight, um, it’s for, uh.”

Derek cut in, putting an arm over Stiles’ shoulders. “It’s a family thing.” From the side, Stiles could see a slight point to his ears again, but he didn’t get a chance to do anything about it.

Heather was definitely angry now, nearly growling, “I thought you said you guys weren’t related.”

“We’re not.” Derek’s was a real growl, the kind that was usually accompanied by a mouthful of fangs and the disappearance of eyebrows.

The implication was clear, and Stiles nearly groaned out loud. He’d  _ just _ told her they weren’t dating. All he could do was watch Heather’s eyebrows raise, and feel the gush of air as the door slammed in front of him.

Stiles was cycling through about a hundred different emotions at once, his blood rushing in his ears with more than just anxiety at Derek’s insinuation that they were together. But he still hadn’t gotten control of his breathing, and when he reached up to pat Derek’s arm and let him know he could let go, his hand was twitching sharply.

Of course Derek noticed. Suddenly the wolf’s warm hand shifted onto the back of Stiles’ neck, covering it completely and giving the lightest pressure, and Stiles really did melt.

It was the complete opposite of the effect Heather had left, bringing nothing but a burst of warmth and safety. Gasping in his first clarifying breath of the last twenty minutes, Stiles slumped against Derek’s body, one arm slung around his neck to stay upright. As his nose settled in the small hollow of Derek’s collarbone, he sighed, “Thanks, Alpha.”

The words had just fallen out, but Derek didn’t seem upset by them. Rather, he actually pulled Stiles closer, until he could feel the rumbling in Derek’s chest. They stood together for a while, and Stiles knew Derek was just waiting for his heart to calm down, probably making a very strange picture on Heather’s doorstep.

Stiles breathed deeply until the pounding in his head and chest settled, until he could think straight and had the presence of mind to remove the fingers he’d twined into the back of Derek’s short dark hair. This was signal enough for Derek, who immediately thrust Stiles backwards, holding his shoulders with an iron grip.

“What the hell were you thinking, Stiles? You’re my—you’re pretending to be my mate, and you disappear without telling anyone the night before we face off against an Alpha pack?” There was the tiniest tremble in one of Derek’s hands, and Stiles was sure he was trying to keep from shaking Stiles like a rag doll. Derek nearly shouted, “No one in the pack knew where you were!” 

The Alpha eyes were out in full force, and Stiles felt properly cowed. He lowered his head to stare at the cement under his feet as he apologized, “I didn’t mean to worry you guys, I just wanted out of the house. I’m sorry, Derek.”

Derek’s hands loosened, his eyes softened back to blue-green, and with the cozy sweater he had peeking out from his jacket, he looked about as human as they come. “Just, don’t do that again. Okay? Please.” he muttered. The word was as different as it could be from the day he’d bitten it out while holding onto the mangled bodies of his Betas. More open, more willing to get help.

Nodding emphatically, Stiles chanced a smile. “Promise.”

He was rewarded with a smile back, but then Derek’s mouth flattened to a thin line. “Why do you smell like oranges?”

Stiles sniffed, and sure enough, something on him smelled like citrusy goodness. Thinking quickly, his hand flew to his mouth and he rubbed violently at his lips. “Fucking lipgloss.”

Before he finished wiping his hand off on his jeans, Derek was walking back to his car. Not bothering to look back, he called over his shoulder, “You aren’t going to the evaluation. I’ll see you at the house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know it's a cliffhanger, but it just had to be done. I'll post the next chapter in One week, and trust me, it's going to be Worth it. <3  
> In the meantime, I wanna hear all your opinions and thoughts about what I've written so far. Every comment and kudo means the world to me.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for uploading this so late in the day, literally twenty minutes before the end of the night. Whoops.  
> So it turns out the break I took was kind of pointless. I didn't get Any writing done the whole week, and I'm just as close to running out of chapters as I was before. Nevertheless, no more breaks. I WILL finish this damn fic before I go back to school if it's the last thing I do.

Stiles spent the entire drive alternating between cursing Derek out loud, and replaying their conversation in his head to find what the hell had changed his Alpha’s mind. Had he just realized he wasn’t going to be able to handle pretending to be Stiles’ mate? Did he no longer think Stiles was going to be able to pull it off? A last thought made Stiles’ blood run cold, and as the Jeep squealed to a stop in the front yard of the pack house, he slammed out the door and shouted, “You can’t do this!”

Derek had arrived a good minute before Stiles, speeding out of his view with his stupidly overhyped car, but he hadn’t gone inside. He was leaning against the hood of the Camaro, arms crossed and infuriatingly calm. At Stiles’ outburst, he simply shrugged. “Of course I can. I’m the Alpha.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come!” Stiles threw his hands in the air, begging whatever druidic god that might be listening to help him find some kind of sense in this ridiculous situation.

But Derek still looked completely nonplussed. The fucker wouldn’t even make eye contact, staring into the trees as he said, “That’s when I thought you would be able to deal with it.”

For a moment, Stiles could only stare. “You’ve known about this the whole time, why would you still ask me if it was a problem?”

That got Derek’s attention, and he stood up straight. As he uncrossed his arms, his hands tightened into fists and the muscles on his biceps bulged. “What do you mean ‘the whole time’? I didn’t know until tonight! If you’d told me before, I never would have suggested this whole thing in the first place.”

“Derek, you were  _ there _ when I had a panic attack at the house last summer. And after Erica and Isaac got too excited on bonfire night. And when my dad pulled a double shift without telling me and I couldn’t get ahold of him. How the fuck does that constitute  _ not knowing _ ?” Stiles knew his face was probably bright red, but damn it, he was _ embarrassed _ . The entire pack was in the house, and Derek was forcing him to bring up all his old panic attacks, ones that they never needed to know about. “I would never let it affect the evaluation. You know I can deal with it when I have to.”

The fists loosened, and Derek squinted a little. “I’m not keeping you from going because of your anxiety, Stiles. You aren’t going because you’re dating Heather.”

Whatever furious retort Stiles had been winding up to throw, poofed out of existence. “What?”

“There’s no possible way I’m going to let you pretend to be my  _ mate _ , when you’re already in a relationship. I don’t care how comfortable you say you are with it, it’s not happening,” he said, voice firm and non-negotiable. And he kept going, even though Stiles had put a hand up to stop him. “I’m sure you knew that. Otherwise I don’t see why you would have hidden it from me this entire time. You knew I’d stop you from going, so you lied.”

He was starting to look angry again, so Stiles added his other hand to the air and shook his head wildly. “Derek, just shut up a second. I’m not dating Heather. I’m not dating anyone!” The last bit didn’t really mean to come out, but it was close enough to the topic Stiles didn’t feel a need to explain himself.

Derek lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms again, always on the defense. “You had lipgloss on your face, and your heart was going about a mile a minute when you answered the door. I’m not even going to mention the smell, because it was rank.”

It was only Stiles’ impeccable good grace that kept him from jabbing at Derek’s usage of ‘rank’, a word definitely stolen from one of his Betas’ vocabulary. Besides, he was way too busy trying not to look guilty. The absolute  _ last _ thing he ever wanted Derek to think was that he was in a relationship, or even wanted a relationship with anybody other than Derek. But it was hard to dispel those ideas without admitting his massive crush that was apparently growing by the second, if Stiles’ inability to look away from the way the sunset was reflecting off Derek’s profile was any indication. Suddenly the vivid memories of how Derek glowed in the moonlight made a bit more sense.

Stiles was so screwed, and his mouth ran off without him while he tried to compose his thoughts. “Well, yeah, she kissed me. But it wasn’t my idea! I was ambushed!”

There was a rising suspicion in Derek’s eyes as he probed, “That doesn’t explain why you were breathing so hard, or your heart rate.”

“That’s for a  _ whole _ different reason than what you’re thinking, Sourwolf. Get your mind out of the gutter! I was just, I was panicking. She was kind of in my space, hanging on me. I didn’t know how to tell her to back off—” Stiles paused as Derek’s expression turned murderous. “Not like that! Fuck, Derek, I swear it wasn’t like that. I just meant, I was getting claustrophobic, and it was my own fault. She saw me being touchy with the Betas, and didn’t understand the whole ‘don’t squeeze the Stiles’ rule. She was just trying to be sweet. I should have listened to the Betas when they told me she was interested, but I thought they were fucking joking.”

The tension drained from Derek as Stiles spoke, but he still looked uncomfortable. When Stiles stepped forward, hoping to put a hand on his arm at the very least, anything to reassure him, Derek actually moved away.

Stiles winced. “I’m sorry, Derek. I seriously didn’t mean to scare you or make you think I was lying to you.”

“No, that’s not—your situation with her brought up a good point. If we do this, I have to be close to you. You were right, we have to go all out or they won’t believe you’re my mate for a second. I won’t send you into a bunch of panic attacks for my own sake.” He was frowning, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to wipe it away with a hug, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be welcome at the moment.

He rubbed heavily at the back of his neck, remembering the sharp contrast between Heather’s touch and Derek’s. “But it’s not, like that. With you. I mean, I guess it’s because you’re my Alpha or something, but it doesn’t set me off, having you around.” Stiles knew Derek was listening to his heartbeat to make sure he was telling the truth, so he spoke slowly and steadily. Then, to prove his point, he mimicked Derek’s body language and leaned up against the car beside him, pressing into his arm. “Besides, you said that we’re already close enough by pack standards. How much closer could we need to be?”

Now it was Derek’s turn to wince. At least, Stiles going was on the table again, and Derek was actually trying to talk about it instead of running off. Stiles relished in the touch when Derek reciprocated his movement. He was much quieter when he said, “Much.”

“What do you mean, ‘much’? Derek, do  _ not _ tell me you were putting this off again. Don’t you dare,” Stiles warned. He’d never realized Derek was such a damn procrastinator. When they’d first met he kept all the important information close to his chest, only letting Stiles and Scott in when he was completely desperate, and even then never telling the whole truth. Stiles had thought it was just trust issues. But then there was the whole subject of mates and pack dynamics that the Alpha had just neglected to mention, and now this. Derek was like a college student letting final papers pile up around his head and then trying to do them all the night before they’re due.

Stiles secretly loved it. It was so human, so innocent. Even though he knew it was habit they needed to break the wolf of, he took way too much pleasure in seeing a side of Derek that the Hale pack probably got to know.

The defeated look on Derek’s face, and his lack of eye contact were enough to answer Stiles’ question. Yes, he was holding something back, the jerk. 

But Stiles was tired. After a full day of school and practice, then a panic attack at Heather’s, and a—admittedly one sided—screaming match with Derek, he didn’t want to fight anymore. So he rested his head against Derek’s shoulder, and spoke lowly. “Okay, well now I’m sitting here, completely unprepared for tomorrow. It’s kind of important that I get this right, you know. You’re lucky I’m a fast learner.”

When Derek tried to respond, he cut the Alpha off. “Let’s start here. If we were mates, how would what we’re doing be different?”

Derek took so long to respond, Stiles started thinking up spells he’d read about that could make a werewolf mute, but finally he shifted. “If we were somewhere formal, meeting with the other packs, this would be fine. But we’re going to be there a week, and even when we get downtime, they’ll always be around. Then, it would be something like this.”

Stiles let Derek reposition him, acting like an adjustable model in his hands until he was standing between Derek’s legs, back against chest. Rather than hanging his arms over Stiles’ shoulders, like usual, he looped them around Stiles’ hips and hung his thumbs from Stiles’ front belt loops. Derek was only an inch taller, and the position placed his face right behind Stiles’ head. For a second, the wolf snuffled in his hair and Stiles fought back a giggle at the tickling, but then Derek planted his chin at the top of Stiles’ shoulder.

His words were gravelly and frustrated. “You can’t go to pack night smelling like Heather: the Betas will scent you to death.”

The breath from Derek’s sentence blew straight onto the outer shell of Stiles’ ear, and he shivered involuntarily. When Derek didn’t react, it made Stiles bold. “Help me out, then?”

With a swift tug, Stiles was spun around to face Derek. His normally warm hands seemed to burn as they ran up Stiles’ bare arms, over his t-shirt clad shoulders and up his neck to cup his face. Before Stiles could properly enjoy it, they swept down again, pressing firmly on the areas of his neck and arms that Stiles was sure were places Heather had touched him. Derek repeated the process one more time, before coming to rest with his fingers against the back of Stiles’ hands, where he’d grasped the lapels of Derek’s jacket.

“One more thing.” Derek whispered.

Stiles’ eyes had fallen closed, all the better to feel the tingling the wolf’s touch left behind, so he didn’t know what Derek was doing until the rough pad of Derek’s thumb rubbed across his lips. Shuddering, Stiles tightened his grip on Derek’s jacket to keep from doing something stupid.

When the movement stopped, Stiles opened his eyes to meet the glowing red of Derek’s. They were close, noses nearly touching, but Stiles definitely didn’t want to move away this time. For just a second, he indulged himself and smiled. “Not so bad, right?”

Derek shook his head, and the tips of their noses brushed together, almost like a nuzzle. Stiles felt his knees go weak, and would have stumbled if Derek hadn’t slipped an arm around his waist to hold him up. How the Alpha felt him trip was a mystery, but Stiles wasn’t complaining.

With the same soft voice that Stiles had been daydreaming about at Heather’s, Derek asked, “Stiles, do you still want to go to the evaluation as my mate?”

His eyes widened and melted back into a green that was getting hard to see now that the sunset was almost over.

Before he could clarify, Stiles cut in. Part of him wanted to save Derek the embarrassment, and the other part really didn’t want to ruin his new fantasy. “Of course I do, Derek.”

Then, fighting a cringe, he added, “I want to help.” At least it wasn’t a lie, so his heart wouldn’t give him away. Then again, it’d been jumping all over the place since their conversation started, so maybe Derek wouldn’t notice either way.

Derek looked back at the house over Stiles’ shoulder and the moment was lost. He was scowling when he spoke, but his hands were gentle as he pushed Stiles away and began moving toward the door. “We should get inside before the Betas’ heads explode.”

Thankfully there were no exploded heads, just a room full of Betas and humans sitting tangled together in a verifiable nest of blankets on the floor. Immediately, Stiles decided that to hell with Heather’s ‘den’, his pack did it better. Fuzzy blankets and overstuffed pillows were interspersed between the knotted limbs and cuddle piles, and a game was already pulled up on the television, hovering in the character select.

In the center, and right in front of the unused couch, there was an empty space with a blanket and a pillow already waiting. Stiles scanned the pack and found only innocent faces that gave way to expectant looks in the corner of his eye.

The Alpha himself didn’t seem particularly bothered and simply took the appointed spot. Stiles gaped when Derek left space between his legs and looked up at him, but Derek just sighed at him and pointed first to Stiles, then the empty spot. So Stiles took it, taking care not to trip over Erica, who’d already latched onto Derek’s knee with the arm that wasn’t snuggling Boyd into her side. Once he was nestled into place with Derek around him, just like they’d been upstairs, before the house was rebuilt and before they really understood how their friendship worked, Derek put his hands on Stiles’ waist again and muttered, “Better for scent.”

It was good enough for Stiles. Honestly, almost any excuse would have been good enough for Stiles at this point. He was positively humming with energy and more than a few nerves, but it was all pleasant rather than discomforting. It was like when he practised the tiny spells Deaton had been teaching him. Like being in this space surrounded by pack, and with his Alpha protecting him, was where Stiles was  _ supposed _ to be, and his spark was reacting to the sheer rightness of the situation.

There was a tingling in the fingertips of his right hand, and when he looked down, they were coated in his red energy. Trying not to draw attention to it, he tapped his fingers onto Derek’s thigh as though he could shake it off. Instead, the energy sank into Derek and behind him the Alpha suddenly giggled.

Derek giggled. Right in Stiles’ ear. A grin split Stiles’ face from ear to ear and he leaned further back into Derek’s chest to feel the laughter better. He should have been worried about his spark misbehaving, but it didn’t seem to have hurt Derek, and Stiles was so blissed out he couldn’t be bothered to care.

They rotated who got to play until everyone had gone at least twice, before Stiles announced he was going to make dinner. To his surprise, Scott shushed him and grabbed his cell to order pizza.

“We’re going on a roadtrip tomorrow, I don’t wanna do dishes,” he explained. It was a flimsy excuse for junk food, but Stiles was too pleased about not needing to get up to complain. 

Lydia graciously covered the bill when the pile of pizzas arrived, flirting cruelly with the delivery boy until Derek told her to stop playing with her food. Miraculously, she backed off, even wishing the flustered teen a good night as she closed the door. When she turned around to find the pack staring at her, she just shrugged. “He’s my Alpha, too.”

It was the first time she’d vocalized her place in the pack, and Stiles couldn’t have been more proud.

Stiles noticed, for the first time as well, how close the two wolf couples in the pack were, when the gaming rotation moved to Lydia and Allison, and himself and Derek. He nearly drove his cart off a cliff the first time he saw Isaac smooth a hand across the back of Scott’s neck. A few minutes later, Scott reciprocated. He missed subtle by a mile, but no one else in the pack was paying attention.

After that, Stiles watched more closely, and found that Erica and Boyd did the same thing, but it was usually hidden by Erica’s hair. In both couples, the werewolves were fine with their partner touching their neck, their most vulnerable spot. They were more than fine with it, actually, as each of them either brightened at the touch or snuggled ever closer to their other half.

It was fascinating, and Stiles was starkly reminded of his own response to Derek doing the same thing. The idea of even Scott marking him there was enough to made Stiles shudder, and he protested as Derek pulled a blanket over the two of them. But if anything, he wished Derek would do it more. It’d been wonderful.

He got up the courage to ask about it when Scott headed up to Isaac’s room to grab an extra pillow, since the pack was going to continue the puppy pile into sleep for the night. Excusing himself to the bathroom, he dashed up the steps and caught Scott before he left the soundproofed bedroom. In a second he had the door locked, and Scott was staring at him over a pillow that was surely so overstuffed it would pop the instant anyone laid down on it.

“Stiles? Did you want something, or are you just gonna stare my pillow to death?” Scott asked.

Stiles shook his head and rubbed his neck self consciously, before realizing what he was doing and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I just had a question, you know, ‘pack mom stuff’.” The sarcasm would’ve worked better if he’d actually done the air quotes. As it was, Scott was giving him that hopelessly happy look that made Stiles want to hug him.

“I noticed, downstairs, that, uh, you and Isaac were pretty close,” Stiles started. Scott just huffed at him, but he pressed on. “I saw that he was touching your neck. I thought that was like, a serious offense, personal bubble-wise.”

At first Scott looked relieved, as though he’d expected Stiles to give him a safe sex talk, again. Then his cheeks flushed and he smiled softly down at his pillow. “Uh, yeah, but it doesn’t really bother me when he does it. Since he’s my mate.”

Stiles’ entire world flipped upside down, and he tried desperately to keep his jaw off the floor and act like he wasn’t freaking out as he asked, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Apparently this was either embarrassing, or intimate, because Scott still wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Derek said that it’s different with mates. Like, when Lydia accidentally touches my neck during a hug, it’s kind of awful. But, Isaac...it’s kind of awesome instead. Like, I’m home, safe and sound.” His blush deepened, and he actually kicked a socked foot at the polished wood floor. “And sometimes, it’s kind of hot.”

It was too much information, on multiple levels. While all Stiles really wanted to do was pace frantically, he knew Scott was being really open right now, and he wasn’t going to give up his mom duties just because his best friend was apparently an Alpha.

“So, mates, huh?” Derek’s description of it was detailed enough to make Stiles a little apprehensive. Unable to resist, he asked, “Did you guys, you know?” He snapped his teeth together. “Bite each other?”

Scott shook his head emphatically, “We didn’t want to rush anything. Besides, Derek made us promise to wait until we’re both 18, like he made Erica and Boyd promise. You know how he is.”

Stiles did know how Derek was, and it only made him more nervous. He smiled when Scott gave him a curious look, and pulled him into a proper hug, squeezing tightly of his own accord because his brother deserved it. “I’m really happy for you, man. Don’t be shy about telling me this kind of stuff though, okay? You know I’m here for you, every time.”

Now, he let Scott out of the room and headed to the bathroom. He moved slowly, trying to make the pee break last as long as possible so he had time to think without the pack overhearing him. The bathroom, like the bedrooms, was soundproofed for the convenience of the many werewolves in the house. As Stiles washed his hands, he appreciated that no one could hear his heartbeat. It would surely send Derek running, and this was one freak out Stiles really wanted to be alone for.

He was Derek’s  _ mate _ , or at least compatible as one. No pretending, no jokes. It was the only explanation for the enhanced reaction to pretty much everything Derek did. Of course it couldn’t have just been a simple crush, one that he could have grown out of, even if it took 8 years. No, he was Derek’s mate, and that would never go away. Perfect.

And maybe it kind of was. Stiles was the pack mom after all, and Derek was essentially the dad, though he’d probably have a conniption if any of them called him that out loud. Stiles cared more about the pack than anything else, just like Derek did, and they were as perfect a team as could be expected for such a quilt patch group of teenagers. Maybe it could—

But no. Scott had hit the nail on the head when he pointed out Derek’s consent worries. He’d never go for it while Stiles was a teenager. Clearly he hadn’t noticed yet anyway, or he’d probably have thrown Stiles out of the pack, rather than put him at risk. He was always doing self sacrificing shit like that.

If Derek didn’t realize Stiles was his mate, Stiles wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. The Alpha didn’t deserve that stress right now. They were about to be surrounded by enemies on all sides, and it was not the time to be dropping bombs on anyone, especially Derek.

Feeling composed again, Stiles headed back down the steps and resolutely told himself that his tentativeness about telling Derek they were mates had  _ nothing _ to do with Stiles’ own issues. Whether or not he thought he was worthy of Derek didn’t matter. His Alpha had a right to know, to understand  _ why _ he was so comfortable around Stiles, for no reason. It wasn’t fair to keep it from him any longer than necessary.

Everyone was finding even more comfortable positions in the pile as they settled down for the night, drooping ever closer to the floor and resting heads on stomachs until they looked like two nearly formless masses, with Derek in the middle.

Looking at Derek now, Stiles was suddenly terrified he would find out before Stiles was ready. Sitting in front of Derek left him completely exposed, and he was sure that if Derek touched his neck again, Stiles would give himself away. So when Derek lifted one knee in encouragement, Stiles shook his head. “Scoot forward for a second.” He said, hoping Derek was in a good enough mood to humor him.

He was, and once Derek had made room, Stiles dropped down into the open spott. He mimicked Derek’s earlier position, but kept his hands to himself when he saw Derek was tense. “Better for the scent,” he whispered, in a half baked explanation. “You should smell like me too, right?”

The pack was resolutely ignoring their interaction. Another unspoken rule of werewolf sense, was that sometimes you just pretended you couldn’t hear, for everyone’s sake. Humans included, when the occasion called for it.

Eventually Derek nodded and leaned back into him. Stiles stayed still, letting Derek adjust to the new, more vulnerable cuddling. It paid off, and after a few minutes of a movie playing, Derek had relaxed properly.

It was a bit tricky for Stiles to avoid touching Derek’s own neck in this position, but he propped his chin against the Alpha’s shoulder and it kept a decent amount of empty space between his face and the smooth skin below the back of Derek’s hairline.

A few hours later, nearly everyone was asleep, and Derek was one of them. He’d drifted slowly backward during the second movie, until his head finally dropped back against Stiles’ shoulder. He had his head turned outward, and his neck was stretched sweetly right beside Stiles’ mouth. For an impossible second, Stiles actually had to force himself not to nose at the bare skin the way he’d seen Erica doing to Boyd a few days ago.

Derek’s weight against Stiles should have sent him into a full blown panic attack from the very beginning, but instead it just made pride blossom in his chest at the trust Derek was showing in him.

He wasn’t the only one to recognize the significance. It was going to hurt way too much to sit up all night, so Stiles began the task of shifting Derek down to the floor with him. He’d just tugged a long pillow off the couch for them to use when there was a nearly cliche gasp.

Scott was staring, open mouthed. “Is he—?”

Stiles growled, lowly, doing his best impression of Derek’s warning growl. To his amazement, it worked, and Scott snapped his mouth shut.

Going back to work, Stiles twisted his leg until he was laying next to Derek, and led the Alpha’s head down to the pillow in front of him. The movement was too sharp, apparently, as Derek began to snuffle and shift.

Desperate to keep him asleep, Stiles did the first thing that came to mind. He pressed his hand to the back of Derek’s neck and, achingly aware of Scott still watching them, began to rub small circles with his thumb. The effect was instantaneous. Derek slumped downward with a sigh and from his position, Stiles could feel a purring rumble in his chest.

Scott could probably hear the purring, and even in the low light Stiles could see how wide his friend’s eyes had gone, flicking from Stiles’ face, to Derek’s, to where Stiles’ hand was still soothing the wolf. Stiles pleaded with him silently, hoping not to wake any of the others so no one else would know his secret. The True Alpha stared for a while, but then his shadowy face nodded, and he laid back down next to Isaac, leaving Stiles with an armful of Alpha.

Rather than try to flip Derek over from where he’d rolled, Stiles just cuddled up against the Alpha’s back. He wrapped a tentative arm over Derek’s waist, and even found the courage to push one of his legs between Derek’s before closing his eyes and breathing in sandalwood.

Better for the scent, right? At least, that’s what he could tell Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've got any questions, feel free to ask in the comments. If they aren't explained later in the plot, I'll do my best to answer. <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm super sorry about the late upload, but here you go!

Stiles didn’t have the time to think much about his revelation from the night before because the morning was spent bustling around the house as though it was his own. He’d woken up once again being sleep tackled by Derek, but this time there was no nightmare keeping him in place, so he was able to get up before the rest of the pack to make breakfast. That is, once he’d recovered from the sheer wonder he felt at a perfectly relaxed, dreaming Derek choosing to cuddle him.

He cooked nearly everything breakfast-like that was in the fridge, adding as many herbs as would complement the meal so once they were refrigerated they wouldn’t lose their taste. The near buffet woke his kids up quickly, and he served them all, then started to clean the kitchen until Derek manhandled him into a seat at the table and Lydia piled a plate with food and placed it in front of him. He ate begrudgingly, watching the rest of the pack as they finished and Erica and Isaac washed and dried dishes.

Isaac helped Scott carry his bags out to the car while Stiles scribbled down Melissa’s home and work numbers, as though everyone didn’t already have them in their phones, and gave last minute instructions.

“There are lasagnas and at least two bags of chicken nuggets in the freezer, along with a bunch of microwaveable meals and the snacks in the fridge. That means  _ no _ fast food, you hear me? Lydia, don’t even think of enabling them. I will personally call every delivery and takeout place in a five mile radius and blacklist you if I have to.” Stiles spun around the living room, trying to take stock. “Stay out of Derek’s room, and remember no parties, and, uh, do your homework.”

He was so worried, he didn’t even get flustered when Derek grabbed his wrist and chuckled right in his ear. “Leave the kids alone, Stiles. We need to go.”

“Right, hugs!” Stiles called, and in seconds he and a very startled Derek were the center of a pack huddle. Stiles took a deep breath in, trying to inhale enough of his pack to last him the week away.

They were almost to the car when Stiles realized he still needed his own bag. Thankfully he’d shoved it into the back of the jeep the night before, hoping to go straight to the pack house from Heather’s. Lydia had delivered the clothing he was to wear that day to the pack house ages ago, insisting he keep them there so he wouldn’t forget them.

He was wearing an outfit she’d picked out, which mean it was all solid colors, and no graphic tee. A boring black tee underneath a light blue collared shirt, and pair of slacks Stiles was sure he didn’t actually own.

When he veered toward the jeep, Derek tugged on his wrist again. Stiles wondered how he’d missed that Derek had almost been holding his hand since before the pack hug. Derek was smiling mischievously. “I already grabbed your bag.”

Stiles floundered. “How? My jeep is locked!”

A quiffed head popped up from behind the trunk lid and Scott grinned. “I had a key made for him. Payback.”

Derek reached into a his pocket and pulled out a small key ring, holding it up for Stiles’ perusal. Sure enough, hanging between what Stiles recognized as the house key and the key to the Camaro was a replica of the Jeep ignition key. Stiles snorted with laughter when he’d processed the situation. “Touché, guys.”

Letting himself be dragged to the open driver’s door, Stiles was caught off guard when Derek let go of him and crossed his arms, staring at Stiles like he’d grown a second head.

“Stiles, what are you wearing?” he asked.

Before Stiles could protest about his boring fancy clothes, Derek flashed his eyes, and Stiles caught on. He’d managed to snatch his red hoodie from the pile of dirty clothes Lydia had stolen from him. She’d already checked over everything else he was going to wear, and it was the only thing he was adamant about keeping. “It’s just my jacket, Sourwolf. How else are people going to understand why you call me Little Red?”

The joke didn’t make Derek smile like Stiles wanted it to, and instead the Alpha called over his shoulder, “Scott, could you give us a minute?”

Humming an affirmative, Scott left the trunk open and bounded into the house, probably to scent Isaac one last time. Or make out with him. Maybe both.

Derek waited until Scott was out of earshot before speaking lowly and calmly. “Stiles, I’m sorry, but you can’t bring the jacket.”

“What?” Stiles cried. They didn’t understand, he  _ needed _ this jacket.

Cringing slightly, Derek continued, “Do you see what color it is? This is a pack evaluation. We’re supposed to be the epitome of a perfect, calm, honest pack. Tensions are going to be on the breaking point, and if you wear that jacket you’ll cause a riot!”

He was nearly whispering now, and part of Stiles appreciated his attempt to keep the rest of the pack out of their argument. The rest of him was still rebelling furiously. “I don’t know if you realized this, Derek, but I have  _ anxiety _ ,” Stiles snapped. “Keeping my cool this week is going to be hard enough as it is, and damn it this jacket  _ helps _ . I need it, Derek.”

But Derek just shook his head sadly. “You can’t, Stiles. I’m sorry.” Screw him, he really did look sorry.

Stiles tried one last ditch effort, pleading, “ _ Derek _ , either I get to keep my jacket, or I swear to God I’ll be the clingiest son of a bitch you’ve ever met. I’m not kidding.” He’d have to attach himself to Derek’s side, even more than the mating called for, just to stay calm.

“You’re supposed to do that anyway. I’ll stay close, don’t worry.” Derek held out a hand, and Stiles cursed colorfully as he wrenched his hoodie off his shoulders and deposited it in Derek’s waiting palm. “You can have it back as soon as we leave.”

When Derek went around the back to store the jacket in the trunk, Stiles climbed behind the shoved up seat into the back to huff, but he remembered at the last second to ask, “Can I have my bag in the car instead?”

He was probably only obliging to apologize to Stiles, but Derek handed the bag over without question. Then he slid into the empty seat beside Stiles with way more grace than any being should have and leaned over the back of the driver’s seat to call out.

“Scott, let him go and come on!”

The peppy werewolf raced out of the house and clambered into the front seat, holding his hand out with a quick fist pump. In the rearview, Stiles could see how mussed Scott’s hair was, and the wild look in his eyes. Both. They definitely did both.

“You’re letting him drive the Camaro?” Stiles asked, staring as Derek deposited his keys in Scott’s eager fingers.

Derek grimaced, but nodded. “Our scents are pretty mixed, but they need as much help as they can get right now. It’s easier to scent you when I’m not trying to drive at the same time.”

This time the scenting was much more clinical, with brisque swipes of Derek’s hands, and an arm over his shoulder. It still made Stiles’ cheeks hot as he recalled how intimate it’d been the night before.

But Derek probably hadn’t meant that, Stiles reminded himself. It wasn’t Derek’s fault that he was affected by the mate bond thing. Stiles knew that if Derek got a choice in the matter, he’d never have picked such a spastic guy, let alone a teenager. It wasn’t as if Stiles really had much to offer, besides what little he did for the pack. Just sarcasm, videogames, and really cliche’d t-shirts. And he was going to be without most of those things for the next week. It was a painful coincidence that the week Derek was to pretend Stiles was his lover was the same week Derek would likely realize how absolutely impossible Stiles was to be around. And for that matter—

Stiles cut himself off when Derek started to glance over at him worriedly, but the damage was done. With an irritatingly cute shimmy, Derek removed his jacket and draped it over Stiles’ shoulders, leaving Stiles feeling like a prom date. Stiles couldn’t even find anything proper to complain about because there was that sandalwood again, mixed with the scent of warm leather, sinking into his head and making all the frustration float away.

Until he looked over at Derek and realized one very important detail. “Did Lydia pick out your clothes today?” he asked, pursing his lips in suspicion.

“Um, yeah. She insisted. Why?”

“Because we fucking match.” Sure enough, Derek was wearing another one of those adorable sweaters that’d appeared in his wardrobe over the summer, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. This one was a powder blue that was the exact same shade as Stiles’ shirt. The two of them looked disgustingly cute. Stiles hated how much he loved it.

Derek groaned, but after he’d tried to rub his beautiful face off, he gave up and shrugged. “I guess it helps with the mate plan?”

After a few minutes, Stiles realized that he’d put Derek at a severe disadvantage. The Alpha had used his leather jackets as armor since day one, and now Derek had given it up for Stiles, just because he’d gotten stuck in his own head. Without it Derek was fidgeting, playing with the rolled cuffs of his sweater and staring at the horizon like he was going to be sick.

So Stiles sighed and unzipped his bag. “I was going to give you this when we got to the room, but you might as well have it now.”

He tried not to enjoy the soft smile that grew on Derek’s face as he handed over the puzzle. It wasn’t really like the others, a bunch of interlocking pieces with snippets of an abstract picture painted on. The goal was to shift all the images to make one picture that covered all the sides, without taking it apart. Like a rubix cube, but with art.

“You haven’t done this one, right?” he asked.

Derek shook his head and began shifting the puzzle around, getting a feel for the mechanics. “When did you have time to get this? You’ve been on house arrest.”

“I bought it online, duh.” But as hard as he was trying to look nonchalant, Stiles’ face was on fire. Derek was  _ still _ smiling, and it didn’t look like it was going away anytime soon.

He got it, now. What Derek had said about mates. Making Derek happy and not fighting with him really was priority one. It had been for a while.

The fidgeting stopped, as Derek focused all his concentration on spinning the different sections of the brain teaser, and the rest of the ride was just shy of boring. Scott talked about Lydia reminding him to hang his shirts up so they wouldn’t wrinkle, and Stiles spent a good ten minutes whining about how square he would look in the clothes she’d picked out.

“No plaid, Scott! Plaid is like, my thing!”

The Walker pack controlled the land right next to Hale territory, in the next town over and just outside of Beacon Hills County. If the Alpha pack had been trying to get through the larger pack’s territory, the deer attack made sense. They’d probably scared half the wildlife out of the area. It even explained why Lydia’s dog had acted out, as she lived near the edge of town. But the birds were still weird.

Stiles was excited to meet the pack that was able to neutralize an Alpha pack in less than twenty four hours, right up until Scott started whining. Actual whining, that is, a high pitched keen as he headed up a massive driveway. Apparently the Walker pack house was just as hidden away as their own.

He was already reaching up to Scott’s shoulder, question on the tip of his tongue, when Derek growled and muttered, “I know, Scott.”

“It’s just, a lot. A lot more than ours.” Stiles saw Scott gritting his fangs in the rearview, and finished his reach to the Beta, squeezing tight.

The last four months had been kind to Derek’s pack. There’d been no attacks, no threats of attack, and no internal issues that ended in violence. It’d been like wintertime during a 15th century war, a time to rest, heal, and prepare for whatever came next. It meant something different to everyone in the pack. Scott had been practicing control without Allison, Isaac was trying to balance his newfound temper with his post-traumatic stress, Erica and Boyd were still learning what being a werewolf was even about, and Derek was working on how to handle being a  _ real _ Alpha.

The thing was, as Stiles watched Derek respond to Scott being overwhelmed, he realized just how much Derek had been learning from  _ him _ .

He recognized his own tone of voice when Derek soothed, “I know. I promise though, when we get back, we’ll make our pack scent just as strong, okay?” The soft, parental overlay was pulled right from Stiles’ attempts to calm Erica when she first woke up after her attack, and when she’d called out for him as he returned from a shopping trip.

Even the expression on his face was like Stiles was looking in a mirror. The same, wide eyed half smile that Stiles used to convince the pack of the truth of his words, even if they could hear his heart. Scott couldn’t even see him, but it changed Derek’s whole presence in the car, and soon Scott was relaxing.

Scott put away his fangs just in time to pull up to the literal parking lot in front of the mansion that was the Walker pack house. It was three stories, and Stiles would bet his baseball bat it had a more than one level of basement. They pulled into a parking spot at the back of the yard, and Scott popped the trunk. They all unbuckled, and Derek handed the puzzle back to Stiles so he could tuck it into his bag, and they turned off the car engine.

None of them got out.

Stiles might have been projecting, but he just felt that the general consensus of the car inhabitants was that they were all completely unprepared. They knew nothing about what kind of testing was happening, whether they were going to be safe, or even if the Walker pack was telling the truth about capturing the Alphas. What if they were all working together?

“So, who’s in favor of turning around and going home?”

“ _ Stiles _ .”

“I’m joking!” Even Scott glared at him for that. “Okay, half joking. Half joking, with bad timing.”

Derek shot him Alpha eyes, but though he’d clearly been trying to be intimidating, it had the opposite effect on Stiles. Suddenly, he felt calm and sure.

Grabbing at his bag, he pushed the seat forward in front of him and opened the passenger door. “Let’s do this.”

He fell flat on his face when his foot got stuck in the seatbelt, but at least he was out of the car. As he righted himself, he heard the other door open and shut, and then Derek was there. He brushed Stiles’ shirt off until there weren’t any smudges left, and then went to work on his face, wiping off the dust with intent until Stiles batted his hands away.

“Dude, it’s just dirt, I’m fine.” Stiles stopped protesting when Derek tilted his head to the side and gave an exasperated look. Oh. Right. This was a thing they would probably do if they were mates, straightening each other’s clothing and stuff. “Oh, alright. Do your thing,” he huffed, trying to sound like this was a regular occurence.

Scott was staring at them around the corner of the lifted trunk, but he didn’t look nearly as uncomfortable as Stiles had kind of assumed he would be with the whole situation. If anything, he looked amused. Rude.

Once Derek looked satisfied, he took his jacket off Stiles’ shoulders and put it back on. As payback, Stiles spent a moment straightening the edges and folding down the collar properly before picking his bag up again. To his surprise, Derek didn’t move out of his space once they got moving, each holding their bags in one hand.

It was time to play the happy couple, but Stiles wasn’t sure what more couples did. He and Derek always just  _ were _ . A little anxious, Stiles wracked his brain for things that couples did. He couldn’t even think of anything dirty. All that came up was how it’d felt to be cuddled in Derek’s arms the night before, and the press of Derek’s hands on his shoulders that morning, pushing him into a chair so he would eat.

Hands. Hands were a thing. Stiles switched his bag from his right to his left hand and grabbed at Derek’s fingers. It took a second for Derek to get the memo, and once he’d intertwined their digits Stiles felt a little like a middle schooler on a playground, but it was also nice. Especially when Derek squeezed Stiles a little as they stepped up to the front door.

It was more than a little terrifying to be stepping into another pack home, where his Alpha would be tested and, if they weren’t careful, they would start a pack war. But, they’d gone through worse. After Peter and Gerard, how bad could it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me 13 chapters to get the actual point of the story. Fuck.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, finally the actual point of the story. I feel kind of awful for people wanting to read a fake/pretend relationship fic that had to wait this long. Hopefully it'll be worth it. :)

Things started innocuous enough, with the doorbell managing not to sound too much like it belonged in a horror movie. The young woman who answered the door couldn’t have looked more human if it was stamped on her bronze forehead. She wore a heavy sweater against the cool air Stiles could already feel coming from inside, and had an actual bandaid on her hand when she reached out to Derek with a respectful, “Alpha Hale.”

After introducing herself as Lexa, she led them through a massive hallway, down to what Stiles could only describe as an actual foyer. It was too formal to be a living room, with glass doored cabinets filled with breakables standing in corners, and expensive looking lamps on side tables next to the four fancy armchairs and small couches.

Stiles almost whispered in Scott’s ear about it, before realizing he wasn’t going to be able to whisper about anything for the next week. What if his was the only pack that ignored silly whispers to make each other more comfortable?

Besides, waiting in one of those chairs, sitting comfortably, was possibly the most contradictory person Stiles had ever seen. He’d expected someone with a name like Alpha Walker to be intimidating and powerful and probably a bit tense, and he’d worried it would be someone stuck in the past, with too tight a hold on tradition.

The man in front of them definitely looked powerful, and even a little tense. But it was nervous tense, with dark fingers flicking at one another and a tiny lip bite as though he was trying to think of the right words. Not barely suppressed aggression, or even defensive anger, though it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about from two werewolves and a barely trained Spark. For one of the most prominent Alphas on the West Coast, he was very...young. He might not be any older than Derek, though Stiles knew werewolves aged slower once they matured.

When they’d reached an appropriate distance, Stiles felt another squeeze on his fingers, and realized Derek hadn’t let go of his hand yet. Even worse, Stiles  _ really _ didn’t want him to. He liked the equilibrium they’d found between Derek’s overly hot skin, and Stiles’ freezing fingers. Scott was crowded close on his other side, and Stiles wished he weren’t holding his bag so he could try and comfort him.

Alpha Walker stood and offered his hand, forcing them apart, first to Derek, and then to both Stiles and Scott. In that order. “I’m Alpha Walker, welcome to my home.” His voice was a bit like Derek’s, not as low as people seemed to think it would be, but where Derek’s was a rumble, Alpha Walker’s was velvety smooth.

Unsure about whether he was supposed to do the introductions or not, Stiles stayed quiet. He wasn’t there as Emissary, even though it seemed like the exact situation he would be needed for, he was there as Derek’s mate.

“Alpha Hale. This is my mate, Emissary Hale, and my second, Scott.” Just hearing Derek’s voice made Stiles feel a little less out of his element, and he nodded politely at the right time. A tiny thrill ran through him at being given the label  _ mate _ out loud, but he hoped it could be written off as nerves.

He’d wondered how Derek was going to manage lying to a bunch of werewolves, but it made sense that a born wolf would know ways to hide the jump of his heartbeat. Stiles wasn’t quite as talented, and Derek knew that, so even if he  _ could _ truthfully say Derek was his mate, it would raise too much suspicion. It was better to just let Derek do the lying.

While Alpha Walker showed due deference to both Derek and Stiles, it was Scott that his eyes caught on. “Ah, the True Alpha.” His eyes glittered with something, but it definitely wasn’t red, so Stiles didn’t worry too much about it.

Gesturing for them to sit, which they did, leaving their bags at their feet and squeezing into a two person seat rather than be separated, Alpha Walker clasped his hands together. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances. I’ve been meaning to set up a visit of some kind with you since I heard you were back in Beacon Hills, but I heard you were dealing with other difficulties and didn’t want to impose.” While all his intonation was normal, the phrasing he used sounded so formal, Stiles had to wonder if he’d practiced it in a mirror. He hesitated a little, then added, “I would have liked to meet the rest of your pack.”

It was a touchy subject, one that Stiles knew had to have been difficult to say without accidentally insinuating some kind of underhanded comment or coming across snide, but the man just sounded curious. Derek responded calmly, but his grip on Stiles returned. “Considering how long it’s been since my family lived in Beacon Hills, it’s better if my pack doesn’t leave completely. I’m sure we can work something out after all of this is taken care of.”

That was, if there was a pack for him to  _ meet _ , after this was taken care of. Risking looking indecent, or possibly crossing a line for Derek, Stiles twitched his thumb against the side of Derek’s hand, just the tiniest rub. To his surprise, he received one back. That was, well it was nice. Much nicer than something so small should have been.

After a moment of slightly awkward silence, Stiles noticed that Scott was almost vibrating. His face was soft and he was smiling, but his body was like the string on one of Allison’s bows, strung tight enough that he quivered at the slightest touch.

“Of course. And I do appreciate you coming here to deal with this. I’m sure we’d all prefer to avoid any violence.” It was a well intentioned line, but now Derek was tense, and his grip tightened, now just a little past Stiles’ human comfort.

Stiles felt quite a bit left out, unable to smell or hear any of the same things that were clearly upsetting his pack, so he tried to level the playing field. He put his sentence together as tactfully as he could. “In the meantime, it’ll be cool to see what a big pack is like. Ours is small right now, so I’m really curious. How many people are in your pack?”

He got a raised eyebrow at the words ‘right now’, but Alpha Walker didn’t look offended by the information request. Smiling kindly, he responded, “There are thirteen members of my pack living in the house, including me. Ten of them are werewolves, and the rest are human, like yourself. A few of the older families have their own homes nearer the city, better for children that way.”

Only then did he seem to realize how on edge Derek and Scott were, but he was quick to call in Lexa again. “You can meet them all at lunch, in a few hours. But for now, Lexa will show you to your rooms.”

As they got up and grabbed their bags again, Stiles tried to rub against Scott’s arm as subtly as possible, offering what little comfort he could. He got a more genuine smile for his efforts, and they headed down the hallways again, this time turning up the tall staircase. The smile Lexa threw over her shoulder at them as she led the way was disarming, with openness that was remarkably informal for the situation.

Encouraged, Stiles tried to make conversation. “Has this house been in the Walker pack for long? Some of this furniture looks antique.”

“The house itself is over a hundred years old, but Adam and his father have had it updated and restored every decade or so. A house full of werewolves gets a lot of wear and tear. The last time we renovated was actually just last year, so all the plumbing and electricity is brand new,” Lexa explained. Her voiced chirped as she ran fingertips over the edges of the side tables in the much smaller hallway they were now walking down. So Stiles and Lydia weren’t the only ones who picked up wolf habits, good to know.

Stiles frowned a little at the unfamiliar name. “Adam?”

“Oh, that’s Alpha Walker. And for clarity’s sake, if someone tells you to find Emissary Walker, that’s me.” She offered the information like it was nothing, and Stiles wondered at her comfort with having just given her first name.

It was a kind gesture, and he returned it. “Right, and I’m Stiles.” He’d have offered a hand, but both were full and there was no way he would let go of Derek. His Alpha was on the verge of clinginess, and Stiles had given up all pretenses when their walk started. Now he swiped his thumb fully over Derek’s surprisingly soft skin, and occasionally twitched each of his fingers, both to reassure Derek he was still there, and to keep the blood flowing.

Lexa finally stopped in front of a door. It even had a tiny plaque on it:  _ Guest Room #3 _ . “Well, Stiles, you and Alpha Hale can have this room.” She pointed to the next door over. “Scott, that one is yours.”

“We aren’t going to be sharing a room?” Stiles really didn’t know why he expected that to happen, but Lexa actually looked like she understood.

Smiling again, she said, “Don’t worry, they’re adjoining. We like to keep the sets together for guest rooms.”

Stiles let out a breath, “Thanks.” Then, when he realized that both Derek and Scott were completely nonverbal, he added, “They say thanks too.”

“It’s fine, I get it.”

He put his bag on the floor for just a second and held out his hand, “See you at lunch then.”

Lexa shook it happily before leaving them in the hall and turning out of sight almost immediately.

Derek was clearly waiting for something, still unwilling to speak, even as Stiles opened their door and pushed him inside before doing the same to Scott at the next door. Once they were both in their designated areas, he went back to Derek and shut the door behind them, leaving them in soundproofed safety. The Alpha looked like he actually wanted to say something then, but Scott was already knocking on the adjoining door.

It was a double door, interestingly enough, so Stiles had his own lock to undo before he could let the Beta in. As soon as Scott was past the threshold, he started panting, looking about as awful as Stiles did after a panic attack. It was easy to wrap himself around Scott, letting him scent and marking him softly in turn. There was no squeezing, and Scott didn’t do any reciprocating wrapping, so Stiles was content to just stand there for a while.

“They were all there,” Scott gasped. “The whole pack was there, I could smell them. I couldn’t smell anything  _ but _ them. God, that’s awful.”

Though it was a practice he usually reserved for Isaac, Stiles dug a hand into Scott’s hair and started petting, occasionally dipping down to rub at his shoulder blade. Sure, Scott was his brother, but he was also just a little bit his son. The pack mom instinct was winning out over any hesitancy about intimacy, not that he usually had any issues with it anyway. Stiles was a lover, not a fighter, in the grand scheme of things.

He let Scott be the one to pull away, and frowned at the separate room that Scott had to sleep in, before he had an idea. “Maybe you just need to reclaim a bit of territory, okay? Just go roll around on the bed for a bit, and put your clothes away. Trust me, the more your room smells like you and pack, the better you’re gonna feel.”

Stiles was aware of the advantage he had, not needing to deal with the heightened senses. Sure, the whole house smelled weird to him, and he already missed the pack with a vengeance, but it was nothing like what Scott had to be going through. When the slightly embarrassed look on Scott’s face didn’t go away, and he didn’t move to go back to his room, Stiles shoved down any awkwardness and offered, “If you want, we can come hang out with you in there later tonight, give it a kick? Derek and me both.”

Thankfully, it seemed to work, and Scott finally shuffled back to his room and closed the door. Stiles closed his too, but didn’t lock it. If Scott needed back in, he wasn’t going to stop him.

Derek hadn’t said anything the entire time, hadn’t even moved from his spot a couple feet from the door. He was still holding his damn bag.

“Sourwolf?” Stiles tried, stepping into his space.

The Alpha looked pained as he asked, “Stiles? I—Can I…” The knuckles on the hand holding his bag were white. 

Immediately, Stiles lifted his arms for a hug. “Of course.”

He didn’t get a hug. There was a small thud as Derek’s bag hit the floor, and then Stiles was in the air, pulled into a koala cling as Derek carried him toward the bed. “O-okay. Careful with the Stiles.”

The small toss that he got placed him in the center of a bed softer and squishier than anything he’d been on in a while. It was like a hotel bed, and was way more comfortable than it had any right to be. Stiles barely got his shoes kicked off before Derek had climbed up next to him and firmly shifted him into the same spooning position he took to while he was asleep. There was none of the sniffing that Scott liked to use, just nuzzling into his hair, and then for one heartstopping moment, Derek’s lips brushed against the nape of his neck.

It was obviously an accident, but Stiles had to work extremely hard to force his body not to react. Suddenly he was having absolutely no trouble coming up with things that couples did. Scott had been right: sometimes it was hot.

To distract himself, Stiles joked, “I knew you were a sleeping cuddler, but I didn’t realize you were an awake cuddler too. How has this never happened before?”

“I need pack scent,” Derek explained, voice small and almost apologetic. He was talking into Stiles’ shoulder, but the rest of the room was so quiet, it wasn’t hard to hear him.

Now Stiles knew the truth. That Derek was attracted to the smell of mate, even if he didn’t know it. Either way, he didn’t want Derek thinking he was against the closeness. “I’m not complaining, it’s totally okay. I’m just a bit surprised.”

They laid like that for a while, completely still as Derek slowly unclenched his grip on Stiles’ body and relaxed. The last bit of tension didn’t seem to want to go away, so Stiles took another risk, feeling more guilty by the second about his hidden knowledge.

“Sourwolf, can I help?” He waited for the feeling of a small nod, then continued, “Roll over.”

Slowly, Derek obliged. His movements were sluggish, like he was on the edge of sleep. Good, it would make Stiles’ plan a little less obvious. Trying to move slowly as well, to keep from startling Derek, Stiles rearranged himself to be the big spoon. He hadn’t done this while Derek was awake last time, and part of him worried he’d get thrown off as he slipped an arm over Derek’s waist. When that didn’t happen, Stiles stilled again for a while, letting Derek slip that much closer to falling asleep.

Once Derek had gone nearly boneless, Stiles took his chance, trying to make it seem like as much of an accident as possible. He was only trying to help Derek relax, but it felt a little awful doing it when Derek wasn’t aware. Stiles did a little nuzzling of his own, pretending to try and find a comfortable place for his nose to rest. Then he dipped it down and ran it across what he’d begun to call the ‘bond spot’ in his head.

It was perfect, as Derek shivered and turned to goo, sinking into the pillow and actually falling forward a little to rest more on his stomach than his side. A sick little part of Stiles took pride in his effect on his mate, even if he’d hate him once he found out.

Pushing aside the guilt and shame, Stiles hooked a leg up over Derek’s hip and settled in for a short nap.

He woke up again to knocking at the hall door that dragged him away from sappy dreams full of hand holding and sunset kisses that as he came back to consciousness he realized he would really rather not think about.

Lexa didn’t wait for anyone to get the door before just calling, “I figured you’d need a wakeup call. Lunch will be ready in about fifteen minutes, there’s a map to the dining room on your nightstand.”

Stiles groaned, and went to slide off of Derek, only to be tackled back down to the bed. Derek grumbled in his ear something that approximated to, “No.”

“I have to go wake up Scott.”

More grumbling, and then a rusty voice that made Stiles’ whole head light up with fireworks. “Scott already heard her.”

How did he know that? What happened to soundproof rooms? “W-Well then we have to get ready.”

“No.” This insistence was accompanied by a squeeze that Stiles knew a properly awake Derek would never attempt. He shouldn’t have enjoyed it, he really shouldn’t have.

He did. Giving up, Stiles buried his face in the pillow and moaned, “Fine. Five more minutes. Scott, come get us when time is up.” If Derek could hear Scott, then Scott would be able to hear Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't resist a little overwhelmed Derek. Yasss.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you guys go, at a decent time for once even. <3 I'm having a little too much fun torturing Stiles, so be warned.

Lunch went much better, with both Derek and Scott willing to make conversation now that they weren’t suffering from culture shock, or pack shock, or whatever it was.

There was still no sign of the Alpha pack. They’d been formally introduced to all the other members of the pack that lived in the manor, and even some that’d driven in from town, but Deucalion and his Alphas didn’t make an appearance. Alpha Walker seemed to notice Stiles’ confusion, and spoke to him from across the table filled with sandwiches and salads and pitchers of drinks.

“Alpha Deucalion and his pack chose to eat alone for now. Tonight we’ll have our first discussion with them, and after some things have been cleared up, hopefully they’ll join us for the rest of the week.” He sounded cheerful, like the Alpha pack was just a bunch of hesitant werewolves he wanted to comfort, and not a brutal group of murderers who’d tried to kill Stiles’ Betas.

Or, they would have been Stiles’ Betas, if he was really Derek’s mate. But they were still his friends and his pack. Before he could get properly angry, a warm hand rested on his knee. Derek was looking at him, whole sentences hidden in his eyes and the brows above them. They were pleading, and apologizing, and reassuring all at once. Of course Derek would understand, they were his kids too. But if Stiles lost his cool, it would reflect on Derek. So Stiles took a steadying breath and smiled at him as softly as he could. If Derek needed him to stay calm, he would. Of course he would.

Scott didn’t have anyone to calm him down, and seethed, “You left them  _ alone _ ?”

His anger caught the attention of everyone in the room, but Stiles only got a shivery feeling when Adam raised a brow. “Of course not. I have Betas escorting them to and from their rooms. I did do my research.” 

It wasn’t nearly the response Stiles had expected, and he didn’t feel very pleasant about the surprise. Was Scott’s True Alpha status really that big of a deal, that they didn’t care he was losing his temper?

“You seriously think that’s going to be enough?” Scott continued. 

The blatant disrespect for Adam’s Betas was enough to get a normal reaction out of the Walker pack and everything went dead silent. Stiles could almost imagine the thundering of an angry werewolf’s heart.

Stiles felt instincts try to take over, and to fend them off he slid his curled hand under the table and over Derek’s, where their fingers intertwined. He needed the stability the level-headed Alpha was providing. With the other hand, he reached over and took Scott’s visible hand, wrapping his fingers around his friend’s in a much more parental motion. It wasn’t the first time Scott had lost his temper, but it was the first time he’d done it in such dangerous company.

Derek spoke first, adopting the same overly formal sentence structure Adam used. “Apologies for my Beta. We have a history with the Alpha pack, and in our experience Betas aren’t much of a match.”

Before the tension in the room could waver up or down, Stiles cut in, adding onto Derek’s words smoothly, “Which isn’t to say anything about your Betas’ abilities, Alpha Walker. After what they did to two of our pack members, we’re just hesitant for anyone else to underestimate them.”

That caught Adam’s attention. “What did they do to your pack?”

The story itself wasn’t the cause of Derek’s hard expression, or the insistent rubbing he was doing with one thumb against the back of Stiles’ hand, like he was trying to comfort himself. Stiles knew that it was the admission required to explain the story. Admitting that his Betas had tried to leave him.

Rather than let Derek have to do it, Stiles jumped in. “As I’m sure you’re aware, re-establishing the Hale pack in Beacon Hills hasn’t been easy. It was made even more difficult, when two of our Betas became frustrated with the hunter presence in town. They wanted to find another pack, and as they were leaving town—”

“The Alpha pack ripped them to shreds. I didn’t find them for weeks. ” Derek spoke with a calm fury that Stiles felt in his bones.

Now the room was quiet for a different reason. After a couple seconds, two people near the end of the table just bolted out of the room. Stiles didn’t have to ask to know their mates were probably the ones guarding the Alphas.

It was almost laughable, how hard Adam was trying to preserve the calm atmosphere that had already flown out the window. Almost. “Well, clearly that’s something we need to discuss tonight.”

Scott was flushed a dark red, and Stiles was grateful he didn’t have magic glowing eyes because he would  _ definitely _ have flashed them by now, when Lexa suddenly stood from her seat next to Adam. She leaned over the table and put her hands in the middle, much like how Stiles offered himself to Isaac when he was scared.

“We’re sorry,” she whispered. “We didn’t know.”

Suddenly Stiles understood their dynamic completely. Adam was clearly a strong leader, with confidence and strategy and diplomacy. But he had no heart. At least, none he was willing to give out. He was clinical and self assured and formal, but Lexa countered him by bringing kindness and support and empathy to the conversation.

It was enough to bring both the wolves and Stiles down, and they actually managed to enjoy the rest of the lunch.

Stiles definitely did, as hard as he tried not to. He relished every time Derek leaned against him, or whispered something in his ear that had no reason to be whispered. When Derek actually nuzzled the side of his head and laughed quietly in Stiles’ ear as he made a joke, Stiles wished he knew a way to stop time so he could just sit in the moment forever.

He was positive he wouldn’t have been able to handle it if people had actually been watching them, but the other pack didn’t seem to care at all about the PDA. Only Scott even glanced over, but he was smiling the whole time and quickly got caught up in a conversation about training schedules that distracted him. So Stiles let himself pretend they really were alone, that they were just hanging out in his bedroom or the kitchen at the pack house.

When Derek moved their entangled hands up onto the tablecloth, Stiles gave in to one of his silliest fantasies. He’d been able to comfortably let go of Scott after just a couple minutes, and he took advantage of his now free hand by tracing symbols onto Derek’s forearm. He started with runes that he’d been taught by Deaton, old symbols of protection and healing. As he got distracted by Derek’s heavily censored description of Erica to a nearby wolf, they devolved into mindless strokes of his middle finger.

Soon Derek had finished his conversation, and Stiles was about to tell him they should leave, as Scott was looking a bit worn, when Derek started staring down at the place where Stiles was touching. Stiles looked down too, to see hot sparks humming around his finger and leaving tiny trails. The random shape he’d been drawing was visible, glowing red on Derek’s arm. It was a triskele. Three spirals, connected at the middle, representing the different stations a wolf could have: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. He’d been subconsciously drawing the symbol for Derek’s pack on his arm in  _ magic _ .

This was a whole new low for Stiles. Having feelings for Derek was bad enough. He could forgive himself the daydreams and the actual dreams he regularly had about a sickly sweet relationship with him, because at least they were only in his head. Allowing this mate charade to go on when Derek didn’t even know about Stiles being his actual mate was painful, but tolerable because it was for the good of the pack. The cuddling from earlier was way out of line, but if he was pressed at least Stiles could say it helped with their scent.

But this. Using his  _ magic _ on Derek, it was...god, it was non-consensual. It was actually awful. And now that he thought about it, Stiles’ magic only ever physically appeared with that red glow when he was around Derek, and holy shit, that meant it was a mate thing. Another mate thing that could give him away before Stiles was ready.

Stiles jerked both of his hands away like he’d been burned and tried to wipe the magic off on the napkin covering his lap. It wouldn’t go, sticking to his fingers like intangible goo. So he tried scrubbing it off on his slacks, then on his arm. At some point someone from the other pack was going to notice he was waving a magical hand around, but Stiles just wanted this stupid evidence of his feelings to go away.

His frantic rubbing and scraping definitely caught Derek’s attention, and suddenly he was stopped in his motions by Derek grabbing the magicked hand. Slowly, the glow sank into Derek’s skin. The action had them both staring at their joined hands, and then a couple other people were staring at their strangely intimate position, and Stiles didn’t know what to do, so he looked at Derek for an answer.

The answer came in the form of Derek pressing his lips to Stiles’ forehead. It was a warm, calming gesture, and it put Stiles’ nose right in front of Derek’s neck, where sandalwood and leather were just rolling off him. For the first time, Stiles questioned why he could smell it. He knew Derek didn’t put on any cologne or even deodorant that morning, because he’d been with him almost every minute, and the scent had never faded. For that matter, Stiles could also still hear that heartbeat he’d imagined earlier. It’d quieted down before, but now it was back, pounding in his head not quickly, but loudly.

It wasn’t normal, those were things that  _ wolves _ could sense.

Stiles outright whimpered, too much happening at once. God, this was like his third panic attack in two weeks, and his second right in front of strangers. When had he started losing control?

He was pulled to his feet in seconds, and Derek wrapped an arm around his waist to guide him back through the halls to their room, probably following the scent trail they’d left on their way in. Scott might have been following, but Stiles wasn’t paying any goddamn attention because he was trying to keep himself quiet. Words were bubbling and boiling in his chest, and he only managed to keep them in long enough to get into the room.

“I’m sorry, Derek, I’m so goddamn sorry. I can’t believe I did any of that, and I’m so sorry.” He was moving down a dangerous road, on the verge of babbling, so Stiles welcomed the instant order to be quiet.

Derek pulled him against his chest, and began rubbing at his back and shoulders, shushing and soothing him, so much more active in his comforting than he’d been that first night. They were actually hugging, proper hugging that felt an awful lot like what mates would do, and it  _ hurt _ . It hurt that Derek wasn’t  _ really _ interested in the touch and was only doing it because he unconsciously recognized Stiles was his mate, it hurt that it helped so much, and it hurt that Stiles was just too pathetic to even move away.

Well after he’d stopped panicking, Stiles stayed in Derek’s arms, sniffling and whimpering, and when his thoughts beat him around the head enough, outright bawling. He was too strung out to be embarrassed, and too ashamed to do anything with his hands, so they just fisted in the front of Derek’s shirt. Literally everything that was and wasn’t happening just fueled the berating in Stiles’ head, so he cried until there weren’t any thoughts left, and he was too numb to keep producing tears.

Finally, he just stood, breathing slowly through his mouth. The sandalwood, leather, and musk that coated his tongue didn’t even register, neither did the steady thumping of Derek’s heart, that Stiles heard clearly in his ears, rather than felt with the fist pressed against that spot on Derek’s chest. Even the tingling that he’d never thought twice about, that came only when Derek brushed against his skin, didn’t matter enough to mark the empty canvas that was his mind.

It didn’t feel abrupt, when he pulled away. It felt like a year long journey, as his skin turned to ice where it was no longer covered by Derek’s too warm body, and his cheek pulled the wet patch of Derek’s shirt away with it, until they separated with an almost imperceptible sticky noise.

He didn’t make eye contact, didn’t look anywhere at all, as he turned and walked into the ensuite, and closed the door. Inside, he turned on the sink for white noise, and blew his nose with toilet paper. The tiny glimpse he got of himself in the mirror made a singular rage lash out and he opened it up, exposing the empty shelves of the medicine cabinet rather than look at his puffy, red, face. After splashing some of the icy water on his cheeks and wiping away the tears and snot, he earned back enough sentience to know he couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever.

Derek was waiting for him: lying in the bed with a different shirt on. He sat up as Stiles entered, and frowned at him when Stiles perched on the very edge of the other side of the bed. If there’d been anywhere else to sit, he would have. As it was, he stared down a the patterned coverlet and pretended he was as far away as he could get.

There was a shuffling sound next to him, and the mattress dipped under Derek’s weight, making Stiles tilt toward the center of the bed. He made contact with Derek’s form much sooner than he’d expected, and when a hand came up to his shoulder, he flinched away. Immediately, it withdrew.

“What’s wrong?” Derek’s rumble was concerned. He was worried about  _ Stiles _ .

It was too much, and Stiles jumped to his feet, banishing himself to the far corner of the room. As far from Derek as possible. “I can’t—Not after I—” His throat closed up before he could get the words out, and it was an ache that usually only came from crying too hard.

He could hear Derek shift on the bed again, the small swishing of black slacks that Lydia had no doubt picked out. “After you what, Stiles?”

“After I  _ burned _ you,” Stiles rasped. He had to have, his magic had been so warm on his fingers, there had been marks left on Derek’s skin. “With my magic, with my  _ red _ magic.” Red like fire, like flames licking up the wood of the Hale house.

“Stiles, there’s no burn.” The bed didn’t squeak when Derek got up, but Stiles was too familiar with the sound of Derek moving around a room not to know he’d stood, but hadn’t come closer. “Stiles, look, there’s no burn.”

He didn’t look, couldn’t handle seeing the mark. Besides, Derek was an Alpha. “You already healed, but I still did it.”

A growl vibrated through the room. “Goddamnit, Stiles,  _ come here _ .”

Arguing with an Alpha never ended well, so Stiles went. He stood in front of Derek, but kept his eyes on his socked feet. His gaze was forced up when Derek gripped his head, thumbs pressed to the skin just in front of Stiles’ ears, and fingers lacing around the back of his neck to hold him still. The touch was surely accidental, but the warmth that flooded Stiles wasn’t the kind he could shove away with the vicious thoughts beginning to swirl in his psyche again. It was pure, untouchable.

Derek was looking at him with ruby eyes that dissolved the weight in Stiles’ stomach. He blinked slowly, once, twice, and then he spoke. “You did  _ not _ burn me. You didn’t hurt me at all. Stiles, your magic  _ never _ hurts me.” Sure enough, the patch of skin that was in view, the area where the triskele had glowed, was perfect. Smooth, untarnished.

He reached up to touch it, but stopped halfway and let his hand drop again. “Oh.” Then he turned and dropped back down onto the bed. “ _ Oh _ . Oh my god, I can’t imagine what that looked like to everyone at lunch.”

“Actually,” Derek mumbled, joining him, “considering the way your heart rate went up, and then we ran out of there...if they don’t examine our chemo signals very carefully, it probably looked like we were, um.”

“Running off to have sex?” Stiles could see it, all too well. Him whimpering at Derek’s touch, then Derek ushering him out of the room, probably looking determined and possessive to the untrained eye. Even if Scott had followed them, Stiles didn’t remember him being very close, so either he hung back, or they had outrun him. Right into their soundproofed room. And now Derek had changed clothing, so they would look even more suspicious once they left for the meeting.

But wasn’t that the point, he thought drily, to look like lovestruck mates that couldn’t keep their hands off each other?

Stiles felt fragile, ready to break or snap at any second. Seeming to sense it, Derek stood up again and offered Stiles a hand. “Let’s go see Scott. We promised we’d spend time in his room.”

So they took Stiles’ laptop into Scott’s room, and settled in a pile on the bed, with Derek in the middle for once. Scott gave no shits about curling up into his Alpha’s side to watch the movie playing on his lap, but Stiles stayed sitting up, watching a slightly distorted view of the screen rather than get too close. About twenty minutes in, he shivered. “I wish I had my jacket.”

Then he was being tugged down onto Derek’s chest, into the same position as Scott, but with Derek’s arm curled over his own. The wolf heat warmed him, but he still muttered, “That’s not—”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Derek just said, not even looking away from the laptop.

And yeah, he did promise, to stay close in lieu of Stiles’ hoodie. That meant keeping him calm,  _ and _ keeping him warm. Stiles could accept that. So he stopped fighting it and turned his attention back to the movie, soaking up as much composure as he could before their big meet and greet with the Alpha pack. That was when the  _ real _ evaluation began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that the Massive support this has been getting is just blowing me away? You guys are way too kind.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again guys, sorry for the late update. I'm just a bit scatterbrained at the moment. <3

While they’d been able to find their way to lunch just based on smell, Stiles insisted on using the actual map to find the specialized meeting room they were supposed to get to later that night. He finally felt like himself again, after a quick shower to wash away all the fear scent that probably stuck to him, and a couple Adderall to keep him focused.

Since Derek was clearly already in Alpha mode, Stiles ooh and aahed over the map with Scott as they walked down a hall.

“They have  _ three _ living rooms, all different sizes! And this meeting room we’re going to? One of four. I count twenty bedrooms. This is ridiculous! When will our pack house be this big?” he whined, shaking the map emphatically, and because their arms were linked, waving Scott’s arm around as well.

When Derek actually responded, Stiles’ attention jumped to him so quickly he nearly dropped the map, leaving it open to Scott’s grabby hands. “Once our pack expands enough, we can renovate the house.”

Stiles abandoned Scott to do the navigating and slowed down enough to become even with Derek. “How does that usually happen? Like, in normal circumstances, how does a pack get bigger?” he asked. He was pretty sure packs didn’t normally grow by turning teenagers into werewolves and bond by killing rogue Alphas or hiding from hunters.

“Usually, it just happens naturally. Supernaturals move to town: werewolves or good witches, or even humans that are in the know. As long as they aren’t causing any trouble, the local pack only meets them a couple times. Then, if they get along with everyone, and respect the Alpha and the traditions, they become part of the pack.” Derek sounded slightly sad, like he was remembering the way things used to be.

Not wanting him to dwell, Stiles wrapped an arm around his bicep and grinned at the back of Scott’s head. “Just think, in like 10 years, I’m gonna have  _ so _ many kids. I’ll be the best pack mom  _ ever  _ by then.” Belatedly, he realized he’d used the word completely sarcasm free.

Derek’s arm twitched, but Stiles didn’t have a chance to react to it before he was getting the softest smile he’d ever seen. “You already are.”

Stiles nearly stopped in his tracks he was so shocked, but just then, Scott froze in front of an open door. While a myriad of emotions flew across his face, he squared his shoulders and stood to the side to let his Alpha enter first.

It felt right to let his hand slide down Derek’s arm and into his grasp, so Stiles let it happen. He wasn’t sure when holding hands with Derek had become such an integral part of his comfort, but if this week was all he was going to get of it, Stiles wanted to take every excusable chance he got. Throwing his shoulders back so he looked less like a doting teenager and more like an Emissary should, he let Derek lead the way past the threshold.

The room was both exactly what Stiles expected, and nothing like what he’d thought. Logically, he’d known that a meeting room would have at least a table and some chairs, maybe a podium or something for special speakers. But he didn’t take into account the personalization. Maps were hung around the room, one outlining the Walker pack’s territory exactly, and another going over the entirety of Northern California. Apparently the pack was old enough they even had oil paintings of the earlier members. Pictures were of the entire pack from dates going back over two hundred years. It was impressive, and Stiles got the distinct feeling that it was  _ supposed  _ to be. There was no doubt in his mind that the other three meeting rooms looked exactly the same.

The occupants of the room were no less imposing. Adam was positioned at the head of the table, as the Alpha of the hosting pack, managing to look overdressed even in a plain black sweater. Beside him sat Lexa, her long brown hair pulled into a braid down her shoulder, and a paper waiting on the table in front of her. When Stiles met her eyes, she flashed him a half-second reassuring smile.

No one else in the room was familiar. There was so much aggression pouring off the five strangers in chairs on the opposite side of the long table, Stiles would have hoped there would be some of Walker’s Betas for security. After all, if these werewolves were all Alphas, they were badly outpowered. But it was just them.

Derek had mentioned that the Alpha pack had a leader, Deucalion, and he wasn’t hard to pick out. He sat in the middle, older than the rest and wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the fact that the sun had already set, and the lighting in the room was soft at best. On his right were two adults: a tan bulky man, and a thin pretty woman with brown skin and curly brown hair. Somehow, she looked like the more vicious of the two. To Stiles’ shock, the other two at the table were teenagers. The twin boys looked a surprising amount like Jackson, with their perfect hair and overconfident slouches.

As the limited Hale pack settled into their chairs, the other pack blinked red eyes at them just long enough to confirm that, yeah, they were all Alphas. No Betas needed, apparently.

Deucalion spoke first. “Can we finally begin? I would’ve expected a bit more punctuality, considering the position you’re in.”

He had an English accent that only added to his clear superiority complex, and Stiles suddenly hated him. Before it had been blind anger because of what’d happened to Erica and Boyd, but now he had a focus for his fury. He wished he’d brought his bat.

“That’s enough. We have rules here, tradition,” Adam warned.

He nodded over at Lexa, who stood up. “Since the Alpha pack doesn’t have their Emissary with them, I will act in that position for them, for the sake of these meetings.” Stiles wasn’t sure if she was doing it for his pack’s benefit, or for the Alphas, but she sounded a bit like a teacher. “Introductions first.”

Stiles stood up as well, unwilling to let the Alphas have any edge. He felt like he was in a soap opera or something as he stared each of the werewolves down. “Emissary Hale. This is Alpha Hale, and his second, Scott.” He extended his hand toward Lexa the way he’d read, and was relieved when she took it immediately, as though they hadn’t met before.

“Emissary Walker, acting as Emissary to Alpha Deucalion, Alpha Kali, Alpha Ennis, Alpha Aiden, and Alpha Ethan.” The smug smiles that grew on each of their faces with every ‘Alpha’ made Stiles grit his teeth, and he nodded shortly to them before dropping back into his seat. As soon as he touched down, Derek’s arm came up over the back of Stiles’ chair and covered his shoulders.

The basic niceties down, Deucalion lifted a finger. “Surely your second deserves his Alpha title?”

Great, another werewolf more interested in Scott’s True Alpha status than the  _ real _ reason they were there. Luckily, neither Stiles nor Derek had to say anything, because Scott spoke up for himself.

“Until I actually present as an Alpha, I prefer to keep my Beta name. So just call me Scott.”

Adam nodded firmly and clasped his hands together on the table. “Good. Now, we’re here to discuss a territory dispute, instigated by the Alpha pack. Alpha Deucalion, would you like to start?”

Still smiling, Deucalion leaned forward in his chair. “Of course I would. It’s very simple, Derek—”

“That’s Alpha Hale,” Stiles snarled.

Deucalion only raised an eyebrow. “Protective human, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Of course he was, even if Derek wasn’t his mate, he was the Alpha and he deserved some respect. Besides, he was in a room with a bunch of werewolves, where was the shame in being protective?

The blunt response actually seemed to have an effect on Deucalion, and he paused for a moment, steepling his fingers together. In his place, the woman named Kali took the chance to say, “It’s clear that a pack your size can’t control the entire Hale territory, especially with hunters  living in the area. We’re offering to take care of your pest problem in exchange for the territory and all your  _ current _ Betas.”

“Not happening,” Derek said. “The Argents living in town are allies of ours, not pests, and even if you did take control of Beacon Hills, my Betas are under no obligation to you.” He spoke so matter of factly, Stiles wondered if anyone else in the room could see how uncomfortable he was.

One of the twins actually laughed. “Considering how quick they were to find us, I bet they’ll be happy we’re taking over.”

In an instant, Scott and Derek were growling over the table, eyes glowing, and teeth out. Stiles didn’t have the same options for attack, so he went with words instead, even as he put a hand on each of his pack to hold them back. “Listen up, fuckface. You go near my Betas again, and I will personally beat you to a pulp. I’ve got a bat with your name on it ready to bash your pretty little head in.” He faltered a little. “Once I figure out which one you are.”

Adam looked ready to call for backup, but Deucalion held a hand out toward his young Alpha and honest-to-god tutted. When the mouthy wolf backed off, he said, “Apologies. Aiden is a little...hot-headed.” Then he turned to Stiles. “You’re not very neutral, for an Emissary.”

Derek put away the teeth and leaned into Stiles’ side. “Stiles is my mate, as well as our Emissary.”

Something about that got Deucalion’s interest, but Adam seemed to have had enough. “We are here to talk about territory,” he barked. “This is not about who attacked who, this is about who is fit to hold the Hale land. The Alphas have a clear advantage over you at the moment, Alpha Hale, but considering my pack’s history with your mother, I’m willing to give you a chance to prove yourself. If you are deemed an appropriate Alpha, you can go home with our apologies and the promise of our help in the case of another attack. If not, I will have to let the Alphas take over.”

Sighing, Lexa looked to Stiles as she spoke, one Emissary to another. “They have a point. The Hale territory is huge, and the only reason it’s gone so long without being taken over is out of respect for the Hale family’s loss.” Switching her attention to Deucalion, she added, “They have a point as well. Alpha Hale’s Betas cannot be  _ forced _ into joining your pack, especially not the humans.”

“You’re right, of course. But when we take over the territory, I can’t have a bunch of stray werewolves running around. If they want to stay in town, they’ll need to get along with my pack, or join us,” Deucalion explained. His malicious smile made it clear that  _ getting along  _ would not an option. This was a join or die situation.

“If.  _ If _ you take over the territory,” Adam reminded him.

The mention of the territory’s size, and of stray wolves, gave Stiles an idea. It was enough of one that he didn’t flinch at Deucalion’s assumption, or bristle at Adam’s nonchalance. Instead, he got lost staring at the map behind Lexa’s head. Stiles tapped his fingers against the wood grains on the arm of his chair as he worked through a thought, and absorbed the conversation happening around him halfheartedly.

Derek was trying to end the meeting already. “I don’t think there’s anything more to talk about tonight. As ridiculous as this whole thing is, I’m willing to do whatever tests you have planned, if it’ll prove to you that my territory should  _ stay _ mine. In the meantime, I’d prefer to keep my pack separate from Alpha Deucalion’s, considering our history.”

“Not just yet.” Lexa shook her head. “At the very least we need to go over what the tests will be. Everything will be judged by Adam, as he is the Alpha calling for this evaluation. Our goal is to determine your capabilities with strategy, strength, and even though the rest of your pack isn’t here, we will work with those you’ve brought to discover your caliber as an Alpha. Tomorrow you are to report to this room after breakfast, just you and Emissary Hale. Scott himself has admitted he isn’t an Alpha yet, so he doesn’t need to be there. We’ll go over some simulated action plans to get a bearing on you.”

Thankfully, it looked like that was it. Probably as payback for Stiles doing his introductions first, the Alphas swept out of the room as soon as Adam gave a dismissing nod. For his part, Stiles didn’t care. He was still looking at the map on the wall.

“Alpha Walker, Lexa?” he asked, just as the two were rising from their chairs.

He heard a tiny slapping sound when someone growled, then Lexa answered, “Yes, Stiles?”

“If we have a legitimate reason for needing so much space with such a small pack, would it be enough to convince you to drop all of these tests?” His words caught the interest of both Scott and Derek, who blinked confusedly at him out of the corner of his eye.

“What is your reason?” Adam asked.

Finally, Stiles looked back at the occupants of the room. “It’s something I need to discuss with my pack first. Can we organize another meeting in a few days?” It was the most diplomatic he’d felt since walking into the house, even after their eventful lunch. If this was viable, Stiles could have an actual plan to get them out of this idiotic evaluation. 

Adam seemed to appreciate the formality and straightened his shirt, actually smiling. “Of course, I’ll speak with the Alphas. Will Tuesday work?”

“Yeah, perfect. Oh, and one more thing.” Stiles tried not to wince at the slightly exasperated look he was given by Derek, who was probably understandably going out of his mind with curiosity. “Can we borrow this room tonight?”

This time it was Lexa who answered. “Of course, you can use any of the public rooms in the house, as long as you’re here.”

Remembering his manners at the last second, Stiles nodded politely at Adam. “Thank you Alpha Walker, and thanks Lexa.”

As soon as they left, Scott went over and closed the door. “Dude, have you been holding out on us?”

\Stiles spoke as he grabbed at Derek’s wrist, pulling him up and around the table. “No, of course not. This is just me being a genius on the spot, like usual. Do you think we can take this down without them freaking out?” He pointed at the map.

“What do you need it for? Stiles, what are you planning?” Even as he questioned Stiles, Derek gently lifted the frame from its hook and laid it out on the table.

Already snatching up a piece of paper and a pen from a side table, Stiles leaned over the map and started comparing the territory boundaries to his memorized version of modern Beacon Hills. Lexa hadn’t been kidding. The Hale land took up the entire city, and the Preserve on its outskirts, all the way up past lookout point. Seven people couldn’t hope to control all that land without serious work. But just because it was a lot, didn’t mean it was too much.

Scott came up behind him and swatted his shoulder for ignoring them, prompting Stiles to reassure, “It’s not something I’m planning, it’s just something we should look at. All of us. I need to get Lydia on the phone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaddya think? Sorry to put in a bit of a cliffhanger, but eh, also kinda not sorry. <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, you guys are catching up to me WAY too fast. I'm trying, but if I run out of logged chapters then the wait times between them are gonna expand a ridiculous amount.

Stiles called Deaton first thing in the morning, foregoing breakfast with Derek and Scott. While the rest of the night before had been spent having the most honest, heartfelt pack conversation Stiles could have hoped for, he’d woken up early with questions of a totally different topic crowding his mind.

He’d told Derek about wanting to talk to the vet, but not what he wanted to talk about, and thankfully the Alpha hadn’t questioned it. Without the panicking or being overwhelmed by scent, there was no reason for them to continue pretending once they got back to the room. Weirdly enough, even though they hung out on opposite sides of the room and did their own things until bed, it didn’t feel much different than when Stiles was pressed up against Derek’s side in front of the other pack. It felt just as right. They’d bickered a little and Derek threw a tiny decorative pillow at Stiles’ face with annoying accuracy.

Even going to bed wasn’t as awkward as it probably should have been, but Stiles was getting used to having Derek wrapped around him as they fell asleep. It would hurt all the more when they got back and he had to give it all up, but it wasn’t like Stiles could stop them from mixing scents. And if Stiles took a little extra time to enjoy the comfort of the bed in the morning before rolling away from the sleepy Alpha, that was his business.

Deaton had given Stiles his personal cell number once they started Spark classes, and he answered on the second ring. “Stiles? Is something wrong over there?”

“No, well, maybe. Well, besides the obvious. Just—listen, is there any way for someone to be a werewolf, but also...uh...not?” It was a bit harder to explain than he’d thought.

To his surprise, Deaton actually sounded concerned when he asked, “Did you get attacked?”

Even though he couldn’t be seen, Stiles waved a hand in the air. “No! That’s actually the problem. No bite, no scratch, no nothing, but I’ve got these...senses. Smell, and hearing, and a whole lot of touch. But no extra physical stuff. I can’t run any faster, and I’m not any stronger. I can hear his heartbeat half a room away, but I can’t flash any fancy eyes or grow fangs.”

“ _ His _ heartbeat? Whose heartbeat? Scott’s?” If he weren’t so worried about what was happening, Stiles would take serious pleasure from how totally confused Deaton was. Now the vet knew how the rest of the pack felt every time he gave them stupidly cryptic answers.

He hadn’t quite meant to admit the specificity of his new abilities, but there wasn’t much point in hiding it. At least he knew Deaton could keep a secret. “Uh, no. Derek’s. See, all this extra stuff is only working on Derek. Except that I’m still super touch sensitive with everybody. But he’s the only one whose heart I can hear, and the only one I can properly scent.” He grimaced at the wall before adding, “I think it’s because he’s my mate, or mate compatible, or whatever.”

There was an unsure pause, then Deaton said, “Stiles, humans don’t experience any special effects from a mate bond except emotional ones, and a slight stunt in their aging process, and that isn’t until after it’s been secured through a bite. I assume you haven’t exchanged mating bites, correct?”

“Of course not! Derek doesn’t even know about this,  _ any _ of this. And I know it sounds nuts, but I’m not kidding about these senses. I’ve been best friends with a werewolf for a year, I know what I’m talking about. They’re not as over the top as Scott describes, but they sure as hell aren’t normal for humans.”

Again, no answer for a while. Stiles pulled the phone away from his face to double check the call hadn’t dropped, and couldn’t help a grin when a silent notification popped up with a text from Derek. Tapping on the speakerphone so he could hear Deaton whenever he decided to answer, he opened up the message.

_ We’re bringing you food back, what do you want? -D _

_ What is there? -S _

_ Almost a dozen werewolves live here. There’s everything. -D _

“Sorry about that, I wanted to check some of my books.” Deaton’s voice crackled over the speakerphone. “I think I understand what’s happening.”

_ Stiles, if your request list has more than 5 items, I will rip your throat out with my teeth just so you can’t eat anything on it. -D _

_ Fine, Sourwolf. Bring whatever, as long as there’s an apple included. Maybe if I keep it around you can sink your teeth into that instead of me. XD -S _

“Stiles? Are you there?”

Sighing and scrambling to switch back to the normal phone volume, Stiles muttered, “Sorry, sorry. I have enough issues focusing on one conversation, let alone two. What’s my diagnosis, Doc?”

“Well, first you need to understand that you are a bit of an enigma, Stiles. As far as I can tell, you have no druidic ancestors to have inherited your Spark from, which is why we didn’t learn about you before. Normally your magical ability would have been tested by druid relatives very early on, and then you would be trained throughout your childhood in a safe, unbiased environment.”

Deaton had adopted the tone of voice one would associate with college professors, not veterinarians, but Stiles had been studying under him long enough to know he needed to settle in for the upcoming lecture. Not daring to interrupt, Stiles just wandered over to the bed and flopped down on his back. If he tilted his head to the side, he could catch the faint scent of sandalwood on Derek’s pillow. At least there was no one there to see him be so pathetic.

“Clearly, that’s not what happened,” Deaton continued. “Your Spark wasn’t realized until just a few months ago, which is why we’ve been going so slow with the practical applications of it. There’s a reason I’ve been limiting you to spell theory and the history of magic. There is no way for me to isolate you long enough to teach your Spark control, and as such, it’s easily influenced.”

That caught Stiles attention. “Wait, influenced by what? What does this have to do with my werewolf senses?”

The vet didn’t like being interrupted, but he only gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m getting to that. Stiles, though you’re relatively new to it, you run with wolves. I’ve never seen someone take to pack life as well as you have over the last year. Even before it was properly established, your friendship with Scott catapulted you into a pack mentality that stuck instantly. Often you threw your own safety out the window to ensure the health and wellbeing of Derek’s pack. For example, your attempt to free Erica and Boyd before they went missing.”

He hadn’t told the rest of the pack about it, but Deaton had a way of knowing things, and eventually his questions had been so specific Stiles gave in and just told him the whole thing. “All I did was shock myself because I didn’t realize they were wired up.”

“You and I both know you aren’t that unobservant, Stiles. You saw the two of them tied up with a voltage box on the table in front of them, and your first instinct was to rip off their bindings with your bare hands.”

Okay, so maybe Stiles had seen the voltage box, but, well… “I still don’t get what’s happening to me  _ now _ .”

“Stop interrupting,” Deaton reprimanded. “Because your magic is so unstable and sensitive, it latched on to specific qualities. Now, it’s normal for anyone who practices magic to have certain strengths, like your affinity for runes, but this is different. Your Spark was triggered in a pack setting, and has been surrounded by the supernatural, werewolves specifically, from the beginning. So, it helped you adjust.”

The pieces were coming together, slowly at first, then all at once. Heart racing, Stiles sat up on the bed and stared down at his free hand. It looked innocent, but the magic thrumming under his skin was apparently anything but. “Are you telling me that my magic is trying to turn me into a werewolf?”

“No, I’m telling you that it is simply enhancing certain abilities so that you fit in better with the pack. Touch is immensely important for pack bonding, and being able to sense the location and physical wellbeing of your mate is useful.”

He already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway. “I’ve noticed that my magic only takes a physical form, like this red film or something, when I’m touching Derek in one way or another. Is that…?”

Deaton hummed a little, curious. “Because you’re mates? I’ve never heard of it happening before, but like I said, your mental state is more wolf than human at this point. It makes sense that your magic would be tied to your strongest bond. Werewolves use anchors to control and center themselves. Maybe your relationship with Derek is allowing your magic to condense enough to become visible.”

So Derek made Stiles more powerful, like helping him cast all those runes at once on the pack house. If he could somehow explain it to Derek without giving away their bond, it could help Stiles move forward in his studies in leaps and bounds. He could finally get wards to work, and set some up around the territory so no one could cross into it without them knowing. It could be so useful.

But then, he’d already decided he was going to admit he was Derek’s mate once they got back. After that, who knew if Derek would be willing to help him with his magic? For that matter, who knew if Derek would be willing to help him with anything, or even have him around at all? There was no way Derek would take having a Stiles for a mate well.

Maybe it was just his current mate instincts talking, but Stiles had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t likely to meet anyone else he was so compatible with, if Derek rejected him. No,  _ when _ Derek rejected him, because there was no way he wouldn’t.

Stiles just wasn’t...he just wasn’t. He wasn’t as strong as Scott, or as smart as Lydia. He wasn’t as confident as Erica or and level-headed as Boyd. He couldn’t hold a candle to Isaac’s passion, or Allison’s talent with weapons. Everyone else had something special about them, some quality that added to their wholeness as a pack. Except Stiles. Even his protectiveness was nothing compared to Derek’s, well, Derek’s  _ everything _ .

He barely remembered saying goodbye to Deaton, and dropped his phone onto his chest after the vet hung up. With about another half hour until he needed to get ready for the strategy tests that they were still making Derek do, Stiles just wanted to wallow for a little bit in his stupidly comfy bed, with the scent of Derek next to him. So he did.

A knock on the door dragged Stiles from the kind of doze that was just between refreshing and awful, leaving him fuzzy headed but happy. He’d already mumbled out permission to enter before realizing whoever it was couldn’t hear him. But letting them in would require getting up, and Stiles wasn’t quite prepared for that.

He’d just managed to slide off the mattress and stumble toward the door, when it opened a crack.

“Stiles? Are you still on the phone?” Derek asked.

Just close enough to grab ahold of the handle, Stiles tugged the door open the rest of the way and leaned heavily on its edge. Derek was kind of a domestic vision in front of him: holding a plate of pancakes in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Loosely grasped with his pinky and ring finger was a bright red apple. The sight of it made Stiles smile softly, and not really thinking about it he blinked heavily and muttered, “Thanks, Alpha.”

Derek’s eyes flashed Stiles’ favorite color, but he stepped into the room and set the food and drink on a side table without saying anything. When he realized Stiles hadn’t moved, he nudged him away from the door and closed it. “Wake up and eat, we have to go in a few minutes.”

Feeling absurdly docile, Stiles just did as he was told and scooped up the plate. The fluffy pancakes were soaked in a purple syrup, and a fork was sticking straight up in the center. When he took a bite, the sweetness of blackberries burst on his tongue and reminded him that he was actually kind of starving. He was halfway through the stack when Derek reached around him to grab the coffee again, wearing a black Henley.

He’d changed clothes without Stiles even noticing, and while it was probably good Derek hadn’t seen the slack jawed expression Stiles always ended up with after seeing his bare skin, he was sorry to have missed it. He was facing away from the wolf, but Stiles still felt like he needed to do something to cover up his ridiculous thoughts, so he cut off another bite and inexplicably held it over his shoulder.

Before the syrup could even drip onto Stiles’ sleep shirt, he felt his fork being held in place, and the tiny rasp of teeth against metal as Derek took the offering. It was enough to make Stiles’ cheeks heat and he dug into his food with abandon as though it could actually distract him.

He ended up retreating into the bathroom to change when he’d finished eating, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out when Derek teased him about making a mess with his food. There were just too many directions his mind could go with that, and it was better to take the chance to escape and regroup. But even after getting real clothes on and brushing his teeth, he couldn’t keep his mind in place.

Derek noticed, and as they stepped down the hall he groaned a little, once again sending Stiles’ brain off into the distance. “I’m going to regret this, but you really need to focus and it doesn’t look like your Adderall has kicked in yet.” Then he handed over his coffee.

No one ever gave Stiles coffee. They didn’t even keep caffeinated tea at the pack house so Stiles couldn’t get into it. It’d taken exactly one witness to his energy drink induced study frenzy to put the entire pack on total caffeine lockdown. They couldn’t keep him from sugar, because hello, they were teenagers, but caffeine was off limits.

Eyes wide, Stiles took the cup and stared down at it for a second. His mind was buzzing just from the scent. The first sip was a total shock to his system, bitter and hot enough to burn as it ran down his throat, but it was the tiny realization that Derek had also been drinking from the cup that really woke Stiles up. Sure, they’d shared glasses before, but that was when Stiles was still in denial. Unable to resist, he took another long draught before handing it back.

Derek had a point. If Stiles didn’t get his head on straight, he’d end up spending the whole session daydreaming about the cut of Derek’s jaw instead of actually helping.

Nodding to Derek to signal that he was mentally present, Stiles realized he was still holding onto the apple he’d snatched up on their way out of the room. He hadn’t felt right leaving it behind, and as he played with it between his hands he noticed Derek glancing over. It reminded him of their texts, and Stiles flushed again. He’d been less than innocent in that last message, not thinking it through before he sent it because he was in a hurry to get back to Deaton.

Changing the subject in his own head was becoming a bit of a habit, so Stiles switched the apple to his far hand and held the other up, wiggling his fingers. “Ready?”

But Derek didn’t take it, instead he put his arm around Stiles’ waist and tugged him against his side. “I got weird vibes from Deucalion yesterday. We should probably—”

He stopped, clearly realizing they weren’t in a very safe place to be talking about their fake mating. There could be wolves nearby listening in, and they were close enough to the meeting room for Adam to pick up on what they said as well.

Stiles already knew what he meant. When he’d been introduced as Derek’s mate, Deucalion had looked way too happy. The best defense against it was to just look even more like a clingy couple. The glimpses Stiles had gotten of life in a big pack at lunch and dinner the day before showed that the over-affectionate nature of wolves was pretty damn well embraced, with couples snuggling and kissing freely at the table.

While he and Derek had definitely been close to each other, and the wonder that was holding hands had continued all the way through dinner, they’d mutually avoided any more romantic contact. Stiles, because he was kind of terrified of his magic acting out again, and Derek, probably because he was blaming himself for Stiles freaking out at lunch.

There was no good way for Stiles to tell Derek it wasn’t his fault, so he settled for lifting his arm up behind Derek to hook a hand over the too warm shoulder that he rested his head on for good measure. It would have been a trip hazard if Derek weren’t so graceful, and Stiles still stumbled when his shirt rucked up and Derek’s hand shifted to bare skin. Hot fingers tensed, but Derek didn’t let go as he helped Stiles keep his balance. “You alright?” he muttered.

Stiles just nodded against his shirt and focused on the number of doors they needed to pass before reaching the meeting room. It was only one hall away, then they could use the excuse of sitting down to separate without suspicion, and that fact both relieved and frustrated Stiles. Of course it was a little awkward, having his Alpha all cuddled up to him in public, but it was also amazing and Stiles didn’t want it to stop.

They reached the doorway without any more conversation, and just as Stiles caught a glimpse of Lexa and Adam holding a clipboard and maps respectively, he sensed that Derek was about to move. Thinking he meant to shift away already, Stiles lifted his head to look at Derek, only for the Alpha to brush noses with him. He should have been embarrassed: Derek had clearly meant to nuzzle Stiles’ hair instead, but the action threw Stiles back to their conversation in front of the Camaro two nights before. He was caught in that same thick energy, and it looked like Derek was caught with him.

He was usually too lazy to think of Derek’s eyes as anything but a weird blue-green mixture, but nearly cross-eyed because he was so close, Stiles could appreciate how detailed they really were. Sure, they were blue around the outside, but there was a ring of grass green flecked with amber around his pupil and it gave the impression that if you looked too long you could actually drown in the whirlpool of color.

Someone coughed before Stiles could wonder why Derek’s pupils were so big in the well lit room. True to form, he flailed at the sound and would’ve fallen into a side table if Derek hadn’t grabbed at his shirt and tugged him back into place. More than a little mortified, Stiles instinctively smacked Derek in the chest when he started laughing. Fake mates or not, Derek was still a bit of an asshole.

It didn’t help that once Stiles was standing on his own, Derek snatched the apple from his hand. The bite he took was normal enough to anyone watching, but Stiles could have sworn he saw some fang digging into the fruit, and Derek didn’t look him in the eye for the next few minutes.

The test itself was easy, or at least easier than Stiles thought it would be. He was starting to see a bit of a difference in the Walker pack from his own. They were all so..relaxed. Unlike Derek and Stiles and the rest of the Beacon Hills group, they hadn’t spent the last year in near constant distress and danger. When they dropped fictional maps onto the table and explained that their task was to come up with strategies to defend against pretend invaders, Stiles nearly broke out into laughter before he realized they were serious. They honestly thought it would be a challenge, like Stiles and Derek hadn’t forced the pack into working out escape and defense plans for every important building in town.

It took under ten minutes for them to complete the first simulation, and the one after it took even less time because it was a near replica of one Stiles himself had come up with for the pack to practice on. The easy way Derek and Stiles bounced plans back and forth impressed Adam and Lexa at the start, and they congratulated them for their speed the first few times they finished. But after the fifth designed attack, they started huffing and squinting, like they couldn’t quite believe it.

In theory, the test was probably supposed to take them all day, but Stiles and Derek handed back the last practice schematic only a little after noon. It was actually kind of fun, and Stiles felt good being able to switch back to his normal position. Research and strategy were some of his favorite pastimes, though he had to admit he wished Scott could’ve been there. Maybe it was another True Alpha behavior, but Scott was even better at planning this stuff than Stiles.

The situation felt so familiar, it was a bit more of a challenge to keep playing the cuddly mates while they worked. It wasn’t that Stiles didn’t like it, he just kept forgetting it was allowed. At home they worked on different sides of the room or bickered over the kitchen table where they had everything laid out. But with strangers in the room, they couldn’t even bicker, in case it looked bad. Instead, every time Stiles got too amped up over seeing something Derek didn’t, Derek would come up behind him and put his head on Stiles’ shoulder, staring at the map to see from Stiles’ point of view. In fact, Derek instigated pretty much all of the touching and closeness, while Stiles lost himself in the game.

It was only after Adam and Lexa had packed up their items and offered to lead the way to lunch that Stiles came back to reality and slipped his arm over Derek’s shoulders jerkily. To his relief, Derek eased into it so smoothly it looked natural and comfortable. Stiles even managed not to twitch when Derek’s fingers skidded across the skin on his back before resting on his hip.

They stopped by Scott’s room to pick him up, and the Beta bounded out of the room, bursting with questions about what they’d done and relaying messages from the pack members he’d called during their absence. Apparently Boyd and Allison had some kind of history project that they needed help looking up, and they’d texted Stiles the details.

Pulling his phone from his pocket as they walked, Stiles found nearly a dozen messages from Betas and humans alike, including one from Derek sent at the same time as his call with Deaton. He hadn’t thought Derek would reply to his frankly embarrassing message, but he opened their conversation anyway, expecting some form of insult.

_ Fine, Sourwolf. Bring whatever, as long as there’s an apple included. Maybe if I keep it around you can sink your teeth into that instead of me. XD -S _

_ I doubt fruit would deter me, Little Red. -D _

Before Stiles could work out what exactly that was supposed to mean for his safety, a heartbeat rose up in his ears, rabbit fast. It definitely wasn’t Stiles’, which meant…

“Derek?” 

He turned his head to find Derek staring at the ground in front of them like it was the most interesting wood floor in the world. Something had his heart rate up, but it wasn’t like he could point out being able to hear it. Whatever it was, Derek calmed down almost  _ too _ quickly, and his heart was steady when he looked back up. “What?”

“Uh, nothing. Nevermind.” Clearly it wasn’t that important, but Stiles couldn’t help wondering what Derek had seen or heard that got him riled up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this was at least worth it. I'm trying to drown myself in fluff to escape my responsibilities. It's not working, so I guess i just have to try harder.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all don't know how lucky you are. I'm at a party right now, and my friend let me borrow his laptop to post this chapter. XD I hope you guys like it. You're officially caught up to me, so shit's about to hit the fan.  
> I'm going to warn you guys in advance, I'm about to head back to college, so I may need to take a week or so break to settle into my classes and get more chapters up. I'll let you know when the break is going to start, so don't worry yet. :)

Since the day-long test had fallen through, and their next evaluation wasn’t until tomorrow, the Hale pack had the rest of the day off. Unlike the night before, they couldn’t really escape to their rooms without it looking bad, so after a lunch that conjured a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies in Stiles’ stomach from so much time curled into Derek’s side, they went looking for something to do.

Nearly all of the people living in the pack house were full grown adults, presumably with jobs, but it was the weekend so the house was full to bursting with not only them, but the rest of the pack that lived in town. A couple other teenagers, not quite the same age, and a ton of kids between three and twelve ran up and down the stairs, sliding on the bannisters and play fighting in the foyer until they were scolded by adults. It was busy and homey, and Stiles couldn’t help thinking about his plan and how it would affect the pack. Would they ever get to have something like this?

As the three of them wandered from room to room, Stiles admired how many humans there were. The ones whose growls didn’t rumble quite right, and who wore heavier layers in the chilly house. None of them seemed to even notice there was a difference between them and the werewolves and it was just goddamn adorable.

Stiles’ family was small, even with the chosen addition of Scott and Mrs. McCall. Even adjusting to the size of the pack was a little shocking, because there was always someone else around. But this, this was huge, and Stiles absolutely loved it. How could anybody feel alone in a family this big?

The only downside was that Derek’s mood had gone pretty far downhill, and he was starting to roughen up. Stiles realized after Derek tugged him away from a playroom with a particularly sharp jerk that it was Derek’s way of dealing. He was sad. 

Of course he was, and Stiles could have smacked himself. Derek was used to this. This was what his life had been for the first 16 years. The Hale pack was smaller than this, but not by much, considering all the empty rooms they’d yet to fill in the pack house. And Derek had lost them all. He was barely starting to rebuild, and now he had to spend a week surrounded by what could have been.

Or, as Stiles suddenly decided, what  _ would _ be.

They were still wrapped up in each other, with Derek doing most of the maneuvering so they didn’t slam into any walls or knock stuff over, and it was easy to lean into his ear. If other people heard him, they could get over it. “Give it ten years, ours will be bigger,” he promised.

For a moment, Derek tensed, staring blankly at a painted green wall. Then it was like all the air went out of him and he sagged into Stiles, letting him hold up a tiny bit of his weight and clutching at his side. His hand had completely disappeared under Stiles’ shirt, but Stiles couldn’t care less.

Stiles hadn’t realized how Derek’s mood was affecting Scott, but while the Beta had been sort of dragging his feet behind Derek and Stiles, he now caught up on Stiles’ side and clapped him on the shoulder. “I hear grownups talking about movies, sounds like our thing.”

They let Scott lead them to the medium sized living room, and sure enough, there was a group of semi-adults leaning on couches and discussing movies that were currently in theaters. At their entrance, everyone paused to redo introductions, but then they seamlessly integrated Scott and Stiles into the conversation.

Derek didn’t say much, just watched from where his chin was perched on Stiles’ shoulder. While Scott had felt comfortable enough to relax into one of the armchairs, Derek leaned back against an empty wall and pulled Stiles into his arms, just like they’d practiced next to the Camaro. It almost felt like a possessive thing, until Derek dipped his forehead down to hide his face in Stiles’ shirt. That’s what it really was. Derek was hiding behind Stiles because he was as uncomfortable now as he was in every other social situation.

If Stiles were mean, he’d try to force Derek into the conversation or move away so he had to face his fears. But he couldn’t deny that it was quickly becoming his favorite semi-cuddle position ever. There was something awesome about having Derek’s thumbs in his front pockets, where he’d stuck them after getting tired of crossing his arms over Stiles’ stomach, and having Derek’s shoulder there to catch him when he leaned his head back and laughed.

He was content to stay like that all afternoon, joking badly about movie franchises and getting to know members of a pack that he was  _ really _ wanting to be allies with, but after a couple hours that flew by, Lexa appeared and tugged on his hand.

Stiles was way too pleased when Derek didn’t let him go immediately. Really, he should not have felt so good about it, and he  _ definitely _ shouldn’t have blushed about it, because now Lexa was cooing at him.

“Aw, don’t worry Alpha Hale, I’ll return Stiles in a while. I have some friends I want him to meet.” She seemed to be thriving on Stiles’ embarrassment, but she was looking over his shoulder at Derek while she spoke.

After a little hesitation, Stiles could  _ feel _ Derek smile beside his cheek. “Please, when we aren’t discussing pack business, call me Derek. If Stiles is okay with it, I am.”

Then he let Stiles go and actually gave him a little push in the right direction. Lexa didn’t even give Stiles time to turn around and say goodbye before eagerly dragging him through the halls and into a kitchen. She bypassed the actual cooking area and brought him over to a breakfast nook with a small oak table and a few chairs that were nearly all occupied.

There were two men and two women, not including Lexa, with ages varying between only a little older than Stiles and mid forties, and they all grinned at him as he waved awkwardly.

Thankfully, Lexa took the lead. “Stiles, these are all the other human mates in the pack. Meet Robby, Nick, Dana, and Leslie.” Everybody nodded or did their own wave. “And everybody, this is Emissary Hale.”

“Stiles, please.”

Introductions done, Lexa dropped down into an empty chair and patted the remaining one next to her. “We’re all dying to know the deal with you and Alpha Hale. As the humans mated to werewolves, there isn’t a single boring story among us, and we always wanna hear more.”

Stiles took the offered seat, but kept his hands clasped in his lap. This was the kind of situation where he could seriously screw things up. They hadn’t rehearsed answers to questions or worked up a backstory. “Uh, what do you wanna know?”

The one Stiles thought was Dana perked up, clutching at her mug of tea and requesting, “Tell us about how you met. Did you know he was a werewolf?”

Right, they didn’t know. Well, Lexa probably had some understanding of the kind of stuff that’d gone down in Beacon Hills recently, but it wasn’t like they’d broadcasted the details anywhere.

It was nerve wracking to suddenly come up with a romantic story for him and Derek, but Stiles was a bit mollified by the fact that these people were all human, and they wouldn’t know he was lying. Besides, there wasn’t really much of a reason to lie about the beginning.

“Well, no, not the very first time. See, me and Scott were kind of trespassing on his property, and he kicked us off.” He paused. “Actually, I don’t even think I’ve told him this, but we met before that. We both grew up in Beacon Hills, and I met him when I was a kid. His mom Talia was super powerful in the supernatural community, which I’m guessing you already knew, but she was also big in Beacon Hills. My mom knew her, and I remember meeting her and Derek while I was out grocery shopping with my parents. I was only like 7 or 8, but I remember he was loud at the time, like me. We both got scolded for jumping around and trying to climb into the carts. Mostly because Derek did it first, and when I tried to copy him I fell off the side.”

Nick, a lean man with tanned skin and bright green eyes, gave him a dopey grin. “Sounds like fate, meeting when you were kids and then starting all over again years later. Speaking of, how  _ did _ it start? How did you get together? The two of you are...very different.”

This was where it got tricky, and Stiles looked around nervously, almost expecting someone to be there with a clipboard to compare his answers with Derek’s. There wasn’t a lot he could see of the rest of the kitchen from the nook, and while people—mostly kids—occasionally dashed over to one of the two fridges and grabbed a snack or a drink, there was nowhere else in the room to sit. They really had picked the perfect place for a bunch of humans to just talk, without being overheard.

Nerves settling, Stiles started as truthfully as he could, because lies were always easier to maintain if they were based on truth. “You’re right, we’re like total opposites most of the time, and we drive each other nuts. To be honest, when we met I think we kind of hated each other. Derek’s...well, Scott was bitten by a rogue Alpha while Derek was in town. When he found out about it, Derek tried to help, but he wasn’t so good at having actual conversations so we all clashed a ton. Even though we had to work together to deal with some issues that popped up, none of us really liked each other, and it actually got worse once Derek became an Alpha.

“I don’t think anything would have improved if he hadn’t come and gotten me at the beginning of last summer. He needed help with something, and for some reason he picked me to do the helping. I had this forced cohabitation with him while we dealt with the problem, and it was like he actually started being a real person to me. Since I can’t keep my nose out of other people’s business, I started making all these suggestions about the pack and how to make things easier on everybody, and suddenly he started listening. I mean, we still argue like all the time, don’t get me wrong, he is a  _ total _ grump. But it’s like once we actually tried hearing each other, things just started to work.”

It was amazing how easy it was to talk about it when he had such an eager audience. None of them were looking at him like he was crazy, or worse like he was lying. They were just soaking up a story that was probably a little similar to their own. Werewolves were a lot to handle, and it took some pretty tough people to deal with the supernatural world.

Still not sated, Nick jumped in again. “But when did you fall in  _ love _ ? When did you  _ know _ ?” 

And somehow, Stiles didn’t even have to think about it. “I kind of did it in reverse. I think I actually started falling for him within that first week. I...uh, I have panic attacks.” Stiles was a little panicky right then about telling strangers he had an anxiety disorder, but even if they reported him back to the Adam or someone else, he didn’t think it was something they could really use against him. “And I had one while I was there. Derek actually went to find me and helped me get control over it. And then he told me, well, he said I need to talk more. If you knew me, you’d know that’s kind of impossible. I talk more than everybody I know put together.”

He’d been steadily losing himself in memories of the last few months, and when he answered the last question, the day he thought of washed over him like a vivid daydream. “But I didn’t know what was going on until a few weeks later, while we were working on building the pack house, all of us together. I did something for Derek, and there was just this look on his face, like he couldn’t believe I would specifically have done something like that for  _ him _ . And I just  _ knew _ , that I wanted to keep doing those things, keep finding ways to help him and make life better for him.”

Stiles wasn’t even paying attention to the others anymore, because he was stuck on the realization that the moment he—at least subconsciously—understood how much Derek meant to him, was right after he’d discovered his Spark. All the rest of his wolf habits had taken months to grow and become obvious, but immediately, it’d let him know that Derek was the right one.

He was struck dumb moments later when he made a second realization. He hadn’t lied  _ once _ . Stiles was completely in love with Derek Hale, and he had been for months. Mate bond or no mate bond, he’d fallen in love before his Spark could have any effect on his feelings, before he could blame it on being too close to the pack. There was no taking it back or denying it anymore.

Considering how bad his track record had been for the last few weeks, Stiles honestly expected to have a panic attack right then and there, but the same as it’d been throughout his story, Stiles’ heart didn’t skip a beat. It didn’t even hurt, though he was pretty sure the knowledge that he was going to be separated from Derek after this whole thing was over should have ripped him apart. Instead he felt light, like now that he’d stopped repressing it so much he could actually enjoy it. Stiles was in love.

Around him, the other humans were cooing and giggling, before shifting over to talk about their own mates. Stiles tried to listen, he really did, but he just knew there was a stupid grin on his face and he didn’t even care.

Maybe it was fate interfering again, or maybe Stiles’ magic was doing something, but only a few minutes later Derek showed up. He came up from behind, but Stiles could sense him now, hear his heartbeat and smell his scent and just plain  _ feel _ when he got close.

Not thinking about it, he lifted his arms above his head just in time for them to hook around the back of Derek’s neck and tug him down. Derek’s own hands skimmed down his sides and criss-crossed over his belly as he rumbled in Stiles’ ear. “Hey, Little Red.”

“Hey, Sourwolf.”

As one, they both froze. It was the first time they’d used their nicknames in front of the other pack. Even around normal people it was hard to explain, and now Lexa and the rest were staring at them with wide eyes.

Stiles rushed in with his explanation. “I have this jacket that I usually wear, it’s—”

“Alpha red?” they asked in unison. It was slightly creepy.

Stiles shrugged guiltily. “It’s my favorite color.”

And then he got it, as they all took sips from their drinks or covered their mouths with their hands. Only Lexa didn’t bother to hide her knowing smile. Of  _ course _ it was his favorite color, it was hers too. They were the mates of Alphas.

There was a comfortable silence for a moment before Dana sighed into her tea. “I wish Marco would call me fairy tale pet names. The best I get is when he throws a pillow at me in the morning and tells me I sleep like the dead.”

Derek still hadn’t said anything, but he dropped his forehead down, and after a moment his shoulders started to shake, knocking against Stiles’ neck. He was  _ laughing, _ and it just made sense for Stiles to rub his cheek over Derek’s ear and neck even as he rapped on the space where he knew Derek’s tattoo was.

“What did you come bother us chickens for? We were just getting to the good gossip.”

Lifting his head, Derek nosed at Stiles’ temple before grinning mischievously. It was starting to become a favorite look of Stiles’. “Sorry to be a wolf in the henhouse, but they’re starting up some games in the backyard and Scott needs his best cheerleader.”

The other human mates let Stiles go with minimal complaints and promises to come join the fun soon, and Derek did his own, much more cuddly dragging away. To Stiles’ surprise, Derek snagged another apple from a bowl on the kitchen counter as they left the room, biting into it with the same intensity as he had that morning. They were almost to the back door when Stiles stopped. “Uh, you didn’t hear any of our conversation, did you?”

If Derek had overheard them, then he would know Stiles hadn’t been lying, and then he’d have to give up his secret way too soon. He wasn’t ready to tell Derek the truth, not until they both had the option to walk away if they needed to, and that just wasn’t possible here.

Derek only blinked at him. “I think someone said something about meeting their mate at the grocery store?”

Right, Leslie had been saying she met her mate there too, but not until she was in her twenties. That was safe, Stiles could handle that.

Relaxing, Stiles let Derek lead him into the backyard, a space nearly the size of the lacrosse field, with everything from a children’s playset to a bonfire pit.There was a small set of bleachers and chairs organized next to a big empty area, and members of the pack were bustling around, some sitting down with kids on their laps, and others stretching their limbs. 

Milling around on the outskirts of the field, Scott was bouncing on the soles of his feet. When he caught Stiles and Derek’s scents, he jogged over with a massive grin. “They’re doing training, but everyone’s acting like it’s a game.” He turned to Derek. “Do other packs not train like us?”

There was a wounded expression on Derek’s face as he answered, but Stiles didn’t think it was aimed at anyone in particular. “Not the big ones, not as seriously. They don’t need to: instead they rely on connections to other packs. Diplomacy can go pretty far in protecting an area. We’re too small for that though, so we need the defense.”

Derek wasn’t actually allowed to participate, because he would be doing the same thing the next day, but for a grade, so Scott headed back over to join the throng of eager wolves and even some humans. Feeling like a soccer mom again, Stiles pulled Derek over to an abandoned seat and pushed him into it before climbing into his lap and sitting across his legs.

“I refuse to let my ass go numb sitting on one of these benches.” Stiles was ready to keep arguing the point, but Derek just twined one arm behind his back and the other over his lap. Derek clasped his fingers together on Stiles hip, creating a warm seatbelt around his waist. Rather than stay sitting up completely, Stiles let himself droop down so he could rest his head on Derek’s shoulder to watch.

His relaxation didn’t last long because the energy from the matches infected everyone watching. As the different pairs of wolves faced off against each other, Stiles watched carefully to see their techniques. He still had absolutely no fighting abilities of his own, other than a decent right hook, but spending time at all of Derek’s own training sessions had given him a good idea of what different moves were supposed to look like on other people at least.

Derek was right. It was clear to Stiles, like it had been with Adam and Lexa, that the Walker pack didn’t have the same urgency buzzing in their hearts as the Hale pack, and they didn’t take the extra precautions Stiles’ pack needed to stay safe. It wasn’t that they were bad, or didn’t take it seriously: the wolves were lightning fast, and some of the moves they made Stiles couldn’t even catch until the end stroke. But it was obvious in the way that they never went for the kill, always left their guard open as they checked over their opponent, and how much teasing they went in for.

Scott’s first match was with another wolf his age, and it was over almost immediately. It seemed like they had levels, in the Walker pack, of how much the teens were taught to fight at certain ages. The young girl made only the slightest offensive moves, and when Scott jumped over top of her and put a claw to her throat, she had no response, even though his stance was completely relaxed and she could have easily broken it.

Stiles cheered wildly, not bothering to try hiding the gush of pride he had at seeing Scott get moved to a different age group. That was his Beta, his brother, and his best friend all wrapped up in one and kicking ass. Derek looked proud too, if his flashing Alpha eyes were anything to go by.

After about a dozen more short fights to rank everyone properly, one of the older wolves came out and let them all know it was time to break for dinner, and the more serious matches would take place the next day. When Derek got to fight.

It was pretty hard to get a werewolf tired, Stiles knew, but Scott was sweating and panting by the time he came back up to greet Derek and Stiles. Ignoring it completely, Stiles jumped up and squeezed Scott as hard as he could. “Do you have any idea how badass you looked out there? Don’t think I didn’t see all your lacrosse moves coming out, because Finstock is kind of right, you always look like a ballet dancer when you do those.”

He and Derek had been snuggling and looking as cutesy as a couple could all day, so Stiles figured it wouldn’t hurt to give Scotty a little love. Pulling away from the hug, he slung an arm over Scott’s shoulders and started walking with him inside. After a second of walking, Stiles felt like something was missing, and stuck his hand out.

Derek’s palm was soft as it slipped into Stiles’ hand. Part of Stiles had assumed he would have a bunch of callus to match his leather and occasional serial killer eyebrows, but he should have realized werewolf healing wouldn’t allow for it. It was a little weird being the one with rough hands from playing lacrosse, but it was a good weird.

After dinner everybody broke off into different living rooms to watch movies, and the Hale pack bowed out for the night. It was too familiar, too close to what was waiting at home for them, so they retreated to Stiles’ and Derek’s room and piled onto the bed together while Stiles called up the pack and put them on speakerphone.

This time there wasn’t a pressing issue to talk about, so everyone took turns bringing up different subjects. Scott boasted to Isaac about the matches he’d won, and everyone lamented not getting to have the rest of the pack there to try it out themselves. Boyd and Allison asked Stiles questions about their history project, and he pushed them toward the right material, only managing not to go off on a tangent because Derek interrupted to ask if they’d been following the house rules.

The sheer amount of giggling coming over the line should have worried Stiles, but it loosened the knot of tension in his chest to hear their happiness, and so did listening to Lydia and Erica explain how completely and totally party-less the pack house had been for the last two days.

With the phone in the middle, Scott was curled up with a pillow under his chest at the foot of the bed, and Derek was leaning against the remaining pillow up by the headboard. Stiles had shifted at least ten times, like usual, from laying on his stomach with his head near the phone to sitting straight up, and eventually he ended up in a ball with his head on Derek’s calf. The muscles and bone weren’t a great pillow, and as Stiles’ eyes grew heavy he slid his temple upward, searching for somewhere soft.

Derek’s thigh was nice, but Stiles reached the tiniest bit further until there was something firm under his cheek. It was better, with his head on Derek’s hip, in large part because after a moment a hand slid into Stiles’ hair. Strong fingers raked through the strands and lightly stroked Stiles’ scalp, lulling him to sleep.

Stiles knew there were certain things they should probably talk about. Things that happened when they weren’t around anyone they needed to pretend for. Derek didn’t deserve for Stiles to take advantage of the mate bond to get his affection. Not for his panic attacks, not for his sleeping, and not things like this, the soft touches and tender words that he knew Derek only allowed because the mate bond told him to.

But he didn’t know how to stop, how to explain that Derek was being manipulated by the bond. Well, he did, but he couldn’t yet. And in the meantime, Stiles just wanted to be selfish and enjoy it. Derek was going to hate him anyway, why couldn’t he have something to remember?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think lovelies? Fluffy enough for you? I'm about to start pushing a bit harder, and we're ALMOST to the climax/reveal.  
> For those of you that have asked, YES you will find out what Stiles is planning, but not until it's revealed to everyone else in the story. Sorry for the suspense, but there's just so much stuff going on, I didn't want to try and shove more things into it. Hopefully it'll be worth it for you. 
> 
> I wanna thank everybody for all the beautiful comments I've been getting, you're all so inspiring, and I love having this encouragement. Knowing how much this story matters to you guys really makes me wanna keep writing and post more things! Sterek is like all I can think about lately, and I don't regret it one bit.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, sorry for the late upload, I swear my hiatus isn't starting yet!

Stiles knew the moment his eyes opened and latched onto the digital clock that something was off. It was half past three in the morning, the lack of windows in the room left things completely dark, and Derek’s arm was latched tight over Stiles’ stomach. 

The last few nights Stiles’ had ended up as the big spoon, which while already surprisingly comfortable, had the added effect of keeping Derek’s nightmares away. At least, Stiles thought it might be the reason. But somehow Stiles had migrated up to his usual space on the pillow, and Derek was now behind him, cuddling close. His grip was more firm than usual, and there were tiny puffs of breath on the back of Stiles’ neck.

It was clear Derek was having another nightmare, and Stiles reacted as quickly as he could, before Derek accidentally hurt him again and got upset. Derek’s reaction to being led to Stiles’ neck was different this time. He still took deep breaths, but his mouth drifted up Stiles’ skin to a spot behind his ear that made him shiver, and then back down to his pulse. After a moment, Stiles had to try and fail to conceal another shudder as Derek dragged his tongue up and down the same path his mouth had taken.

Maybe it wasn’t a nightmare that was making Derek pant.

Stiles would have thought he himself was dreaming, but it was too vivid. Even without his sense of sight, Stiles could still hear Derek’s happy rumbling and feel his hot breath tingling over Stiles’ skin with aching precision. Encouraged by Stiles’ reaction, Derek leaned back a little and nuzzled at the bond spot, making every bone in Stiles’ body turn to jelly. He sank into the pillow, not wanting to move or think or breathe, lest it cause Derek to stop.

He got his wish when Derek actually placed his teeth over the bond spot and scraped slightly. Every thought in Stiles’ head turned to static, and he gasped in a shaky breath as lightning traveled all the way down to his fingers and toes, heating everything inbetween. This was different from anything they’d gone near before, and he didn’t know whether to jump for joy or back away.

It felt right, like Derek belonged there, pressed against Stiles and humming as he breathed in the arousal that Stiles had to stink of by now. But it also felt wrong, because he hadn’t intended to wake Stiles up, and Derek wasn’t the type to make a move when his partner wasn’t fully conscious.

“D-Derek?” Stiles whispered into the pillow, trying to roll onto his back and get a good look at his bedmate, despite the fact that it was pitch black in the room.

There was some resistance that Stiles wasn’t expecting, then when he managed to shift over, Derek adjusted to the new position by nearly climbing on top of him and burying his face in Stiles’ neck, but not before Stiles caught a glimpse of glowing eyes in the dark.

The thrill of having Derek over him was dulled by the undercurrent of  _ wrongwrongwrong _ moving like ice down Stiles’ spine. Derek would talk, would check with him, would at least say Stiles’ name. Instead he was just snuffling and lowering himself down properly onto Stiles’ body and—

_ Holy shit _ . That was definitely not a gun in Derek’s sweatpants, because Derek didn’t like guns. Which meant it was something completely different that was causing Stiles’ heartrate to skyrocket. Derek was having a dream alright, was  _ still _ having a dream. A very happy dream that was nothing like a nightmare at all. He wasn’t even properly awake himself.

Luckily, even in dreamworld, Derek could stop at the tiniest push of Stiles’ fingers on his shoulders. Keeping his voice low and calm, hoping not to pop Derek’s bubble and cause a scene that would keep Derek twenty feet from him at all times, Stiles whispered, “We should sleep, Derek. Big day tomorrow.”

Derek raised his head and looked at Stiles, eyes still bright red, but he just squinted curiously, still not in the mood for talking. Now that he had Derek’s full attention, Stiles smiled and tugged Derek off his front and onto the mattress. Trying to sound as dreamlike as possible, Stiles pulled out a line he’d only heard in movies.

“I’m tired, let’s sleep instead.”

It worked like a charm, and Derek scooted back on the bed to give Stiles room to move around, before snuggling back into his arms like nothing had happened. The only difference between normal Derek and sleeping Derek now was the insistent nudging of his head against where Stiles’ hand lay on the pillow above them. Tentatively, Stiles dipped his fingers down into Derek’s hair and scritched softly at his scalp. It was almost as good as rubbing the bond spot, making Derek rumble again and drag Stiles’ arm over his own stomach to keep him in place.

While he waited for Derek to fall back into proper sleep, Stiles whispered to him, “If you remember this tomorrow, don’t get mad at yourself, please. It’s not your fault. I should have told you we’re potential mates. I’m sorry I kept it from you, and now it’s making you have weird dreams and I didn’t realize that could happen.”

Derek’s only response to Stiles’ confession was to mumble into his pillow, “Mate.”

Stiles didn’t know whether he was thankful or not when Derek woke up the next morning as though nothing had happened. He wasn’t just hiding it either. Stiles prodded a little, just enough to check if he even remembered waking up, but Derek’s heartbeat didn’t so much as stutter. He didn’t remember anything about it, which meant he wasn’t guilting himself, and Stiles’ secret was safe.

It also meant Stiles was still keeping a secret from Derek, though, and that didn’t sit well with Stiles at all. Making Derek deal with all the side effects of a mate bond wasn’t fair. He didn’t know what was happening.

But how could Stiles tell him? It was like trying to break up with someone the day before Valentine’s day, or right before Prom, when they’d already paid for clothing and a ride and everything. There was too much a stake, and they couldn’t afford a big scene, not with Deucalion around.

Adam had mentioned that the Alpha pack was choosing to stay in their own assigned rooms, on the top floor. They weren’t socializing or exploring the house, but the idea of them just hiding away made Stiles even more antsy. What were they up to?

The double standard that forced Derek into participating and socializing, even though he got overwhelmed with all the strangers, pissed Stiles off. How was it fair that Derek had to prove he was the perfect Alpha, while Deucalion and his cronies were going to get the land by default, no extra work required? Shouldn’t they have to show their worth too?

To compensate, Stiles positioned himself just ahead of of Derek wherever they went in the house. They spent the day wandering around the manor again, joining in with different conversations and eating less formal meals with the other pack members. They were all so damn nice, Stiles couldn’t make himself be as cold as he wanted to be, but he kept his spot in front of Derek as much as he could, creating a barrier between his Alpha and the strange pack. He only realized the similarities between his and Derek’s behavior when Scott texted him from across the room.

_ R u gonna spend the whole day in Alpha mode?-Scotty _

_ What?-S _

_ Dude, u look like Derek. Calm down.-Scotty _

Frowning at the text, Stiles looked down at himself. From the crossed arms, to his feet shoulder width apart, to the mere inch of space he was keeping between himself and Derek, Stiles was showing off every characteristic of ‘Full Alpha Mode’ that he’d described to Scott.

Derek didn’t seem to notice it, still watching the rest of the room with quiet interest, his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. His arms weren’t around Stiles’ waist today, just his pointer fingers hooked into the back belt loops of Stiles’ black jeans, the only pair he’d been allowed to bring. Only when Stiles forced himself to relax and lower his hands to his sides, did Derek shift into the position from the day before and voice his concern.

“Alright?” Derek mumbled.

Stiles sighed and leaned back into him, borrowing some of his heat, while resolutely refusing to think about how nice it’d been to be completely  _ covered  _ in Derek. “Yup. I’m just excited for this to be over so I can take you and Scotty home.”

The vibration of Derek’s chuckle tickled Stiles’ ear, and he rubbed it against Derek’s cheek. “Come on,” Derek said, “you aren’t enjoying  _ any _ of this? I would have thought you’d be carrying around a pen and paper this whole time, writing notes on pack dynamics and the house structure.”

Now it was Stiles’ turn to laugh. “I keep my notes in my head, thanks. Don’t worry, I’ve got like fifteen different plans to go over with Lydia about making the pack house more werewolf-proof. And, I guess some of it is okay. The food for one.” Sleeping with Derek, getting to hold Derek, and just being near him without being embarrassed, were numbers two, three, and four.

“What about Lexa? You guys seem to get along pretty well.” There was the tiniest bit of tension in Derek’s voice, but Stiles skimmed right over it.

He just hummed for a second. “She’s nice. I think I could learn a lot about being an Emissary from her, if we keep in contact with this pack.” The  _ if we still have our pack _ didn’t need spoken. It was better to stay optimistic, both in public and private. They couldn’t lose their nerve now.

It wasn’t too much later that Lexa showed up again, requesting that Stiles and Scott come talk to her. It technically wasn’t part of the evaluation, but they all knew anything they said could have an effect on Derek’s score, or grade, or whatever they were judging him with.

Leaving Derek alone felt wrong in just about every way, but Stiles knew he didn’t have a choice. Derek would have to fend for himself for a little while, until it was time for the matches to start up again. Steeling himself, Stiles squeezed Derek’s fingers and nuzzled at his temple. The surprised smile on Derek’s face when he backed away didn’t come close to making the separation worth it, but it helped.

This time Lexa brought supernatural lie detectors along, and even though she took them back to that same quiet breakfast nook, there was no denying that Stiles and Scott were going to be interrogated.

Most of the questions were short, easy, the who, where, and when of life in Derek’s pack. Lexa didn’t seem to see a reason to separate them, even when she got to the more interesting side of things.

“So, Scott. Although you were the first to be bitten, you didn’t join Derek’s pack until after he’d already amassed three more Betas. Is there a reason you were so reluctant?” Lexa sipped at the tea one of the other werewolves had offered her. Stiles couldn’t tell if it was because of her status as Alpha mate, Emissary, or the sheer respect everyone seemed to have for her just because of who she was as a person.

Scott looked down at his own glass of water. “I dunno. Lots I guess. We didn’t really get along, and Derek’s pack wasn’t much of a pack until Stiles started helping.” He seemed to realize how he’d sounded, and he hurried to add, “It’s way better now, though. I like being in his pack, and I wouldn’t want to be in anybody else’s.”

No one called him out on a lie, and Stiles beamed at him. He liked to think that Scott and the Betas were happy with Derek, but it felt good to hear it out loud. Uncaring of their audience, he cooed, “Aww.”

He got an elbow to the ribs in retaliation. It was worth it.

Next, Lexa turned to him. “Is it true? Derek didn’t have any control over his pack until you came along?” She was fishing, and if they were in a real courtroom Stiles would have called her out for leading the witness, which was him. He knew she had to do it, had to find the truth, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“No,” he argued. “Derek had plenty of control. That wasn’t the problem, and Scott will tell you the same. Derek wasn’t raised to be an Alpha, but he was doing his best and that’s all anybody could have asked of him after all the shit he’s had to deal with.”

“Then what  _ was _ the problem, Stiles?”

Stiles took a deep breath and tried to think through what he wanted to say. It would only make things worse if he lost his temper or misspoke. “He was alone. Sure, he had Erica and Boyd and Isaac, but they just got bit and they didn’t know anything about werewolves. And before you go ragging on him about biting teenagers, you can’t blame him for trying to protect himself. Every single one of them knew the consequences and they all gave full consent.”

Lexa only nodded. “Go on.”

“He was alone, surrounded by wild teenagers that could barely control themselves on a full moon, with nowhere to put them and zero help in bonding with them. He’s only six years older than us, but how was he supposed to connect with people who had no idea what happened to him? He just needed some support. The Betas obeyed him, and cared about him, but he needed someone who could, well, translate.” Translate his eyebrows and his moods and his anxieties into something the Betas could relate to. Translate his vague mentions of pack into a real feeling that they all shared.

No one said anything, but Lexa raised a brow. Stiles held back a laugh when he knew exactly what she meant. Derek’s eyebrows had trained him well. “I’m good with all kinds of languages. Once someone understood what he was trying to say, Derek got better at saying it.”

Scott piped up, “Yeah, he’s taught us tons. I used to think he hated us, but now he’s like a big brother or a dad even. He’s...uh…” He didn’t seem to be able to find the right word to describe just what Derek was, but Stiles knew it.

“He’s our Alpha.”

There were more general questions, and more invasive ones, but Stiles and Scott answered them as best they could until the sun started to go down. It was time for the matches, and afterward there would be a late dinner.

The setup outside hadn’t changed much, but there were a lot less people waiting on the sidelines to fight. The bleachers were nearly full instead, and even more seating was set up next to it. Despite the cool evening air, most of the people out were in their normal house clothes. Some of the chillier humans just cuddled up to the nearest werewolf, and they were never turned away.

Derek was waiting for them, much the same as Scott had been the day before, but he looked tense. As Stiles walked up to him, he caught Derek’s heart beating rabbit fast. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Slipping an arm over Stiles’ shoulders automatically, Derek shook his head. “Nothing. Just waiting for the fights to start.” He continued speaking, explaining how the goal was to spar with each of the winners, and why he would under no circumstances be fighting Adam, because that was just asking for trouble. 

As he talked, he put a finger under Stiles’ chin and tilted it to the side at a slightly awkward angle in order to rub their temples together. It wasn’t the way they normally did it, but Stiles understood when his eyeline was nudged over Derek’s shoulder and stopped on the huddle of people watching them from across the field.

The Alphas had come to spectate.

The twins were at the forefront, shifting from foot to foot out of sync and looking supremely pissed off. Stiles got the giddy feeling they weren’t allowed to join the fights. Behind them stood Kali and Ennis. They weren’t even paying attention, and instead bickered with the shadowy figure seated on a bleacher above them. Deucalion still wore his tinted glasses, but as soon as Stiles looked at him properly, his head swung up and Stiles could have sworn there were two red glows behind the frames.

He’d asked Derek about it after their first meeting, and Derek explained that Deucalion was blinded years ago, but he didn’t know how or why. It was only afterward that he slaughtered his own pack and started recruiting other Alphas to start a new one. Stiles wondered how he managed to keep control without his eyesight, but if his Alpha eyes still worked, it would definitely give him an edge.

Stiles felt his own heart speeding up, and he drooped against Derek’s chest for a second to compose himself, letting Derek’s scent of sandalwood, leather, and vanilla soap calm him and keep the rambling at bay. This was exactly the wrong time to freak out.

It probably said something incredibly sad about Stiles, that Derek recognized the early stages of his panic and soothed them before they could snowball. He was starting to think the rumbling was actually on purpose, because it started up immediately, along with the firm rubbing of Derek’s thumb over the ball of his shoulder. At this point they were basically hugging, but that was what mates did, right? Nothing weird about a little hello hug?

Either Stiles was getting better at controlling himself, or Derek was just that good, because he was back to normal in less than two minutes. Sensing it, as always, Derek lifted both their heads and made eye contact with Stiles, probably just doing one last check. It had almost the opposite effect, because Stiles just got flustered by their proximity.

He stumbled away a little, but grinned. “You’ve got a little while yet, right? We can watch Scott kick more butt, or possibly trip over his own feet.”

“I heard that!”

They settled into a free chair, Stiles sitting sideways on Derek’s lap again, and watched Scott do his stretches with the other fighters getting ready. Every time Scott did a backbend or his shirt rode up, Stiles got a preemptive smack on the hip, just before he let out an instinctive wolf whistle. The first one shocked him into silence, but the second made him glower at Derek. It was impossible to be actually mad at him though, because he was  _ smiling _ . A big, happy, easy smile that looked like it belonged to someone so much less hurt. It was Stiles’ kryptonite. Even the heat on the side of his head from a certain creepy, British Alpha’s stare wasn’t enough to ruin his mood.

Scott kicked more butt. He jumped and twirled, and pulled out all the fancy spin attacks one would expect to see from a cartoon bandicoot in pants. It looked a little ridiculous, but it worked for him, and by the end of the first proper round, Scott was the winner. Which meant he was the first to fight Derek.

Stiles had known it was possible, even likely, considering what he’d seen of the younger Walker Betas, but Scott winning the first round posed a new problem. How would it look to the Walker pack for Derek to fight his own Beta? For that matter, how would it look to the Alpha pack?

When Derek stood up to head over, likely having done his stretches before they even got outside, Stiles allowed himself the tiniest bit of clinging to Derek’s wrist. He was becoming a bit co-dependent on Derek from spending almost every minute of their time together, and the thought of Derek fighting suddenly didn’t sound so fun, even if it was just Scott, who would never really hurt his Alpha.

But he let him go, smiling encouragingly like a good mate. Derek got into place, facing Stiles and Scott with the smile still on his face. Derek looked excited and energized, so when Stiles caught a glimpse of Deucalion staring at Derek’s back, he covered up the jump of his heart with two thumbs up. He wasn’t going to let anybody try to psych Derek out.

The entire Alpha pack was hyper focused on the field now, but Deucalion was outright grinning at Derek. Now that the sun had properly gone down, and torches lit up the space, the glowing red eyes were easily visible through Deucalion’s glasses. He was watching the fight, and something about it made him way too happy.

Oh god, he was watching Derek fight his own Beta. That was just wrong on so many levels. Like letting a serial killer watch CSI. Which Deucalion was. A serial killer. It was hard to remember, with how separate the supernatural world always felt from normal humanity, but by killing his old pack, and convincing the other Alphas to kill theirs, Deucalion was essentially a serial killer running a cult. And they were just letting him walk around, doing nothing to keep him restrained or find justice for his victims.

What the hell was Stiles’ life?

He turned his attention back to Derek and Scott, refusing to let any of his nerves show in his heart or scent, or anything. The Alphas didn’t matter right now, and hopefully tomorrow morning would get them out of everyone’s hair once and for all. He had a plan, he just needed to stick to it.

The match hadn’t even started yet, as a tiny toddler had apparently escaped from her caretaker and scrambled onto the field to say hi. The phrase ‘It takes a village’ flew through Stiles’ head when a completely different person swooped in to pick the little girl up, not hesitating to blow raspberries on her cheeks as he carried her to the side.

Derek and Scott greeted each other by clasping forearms. The instant they let go, Derek’s face smoothed out to a blank canvas. The only sign that he hadn’t completely lost his good mood was the sparkle in his eyes.

It started slowly, with Scott taking his time and keeping a good distance so he would be able to react to anything Derek did. But Derek didn’t look worried. He didn’t look anything: his face gave nothing away, and his heartbeat was steady in Stiles’ ears. Derek never made the first move.

When Scott finally thought he saw an opening, he dashed for it, only managing a tiny swipe to Derek’s side before Derek bowled him over. He jumped up again, resetting his position the way Derek had taught him to, just in time to roll away from Derek’s retaliating swing.

Then they were off, a blur of white tank tops and sweats. It was a far cry from the way Scott used to fight, long charges that made it hard to switch directions were replaced with quick jabs and dancing around Derek. He managed to avoid a few hits, but it made him too cocky, and Stiles saw the opening he left only milliseconds before Derek swiped his feet out from under him and held a single claw against his jugular.

As quickly as Derek’s smile had faded, it returned the moment Scott surrendered, and he held a hand out to help him up before pulling him into a textbook bro hug. The light in Scott’s eyes when he walked off the field toward Stiles, with Derek’s arm still around him, could’ve outshone the sun. He had a brilliant grin on his face, and his eyes had shifted to gold almost as  soon as the fight began, but now they were more reminiscent of fire, nearly red around the…

“Scott!” Stiles shouted, jumping up and meeting them in the middle. He grabbed Scott’s face in his hands and held him still, watching the red slowly fade away. Only once they were back to gold, did he let go.

A hand rested on Stiles’ bicep, and he jerked his gaze over to Derek, who was staring at him curiously. He glanced back at Scott to see him looking downright worried. Regretting his abrasiveness, Stiles tugged Scott into a hug. “Sorry, sorry. Hey, you did great.”

It didn’t completely smooth out the situation, and he tried again. “Both of you did great. Really.” He was still being stared at. “Later. I’ll explain later.”

At least that got them to stop looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

Scott bowed out of the rest of the fights, apparently being properly beaten by his Alpha had curbed the appeal of wrestling with more werewolves. He took what was becoming his ‘place’, sitting on the grass at Derek’s and Stiles’ feet, and occasionally bonking one of them with his forehead to get their attention and make a joke while they watched the next round.

The fights passed pretty quickly, rising in difficulty until Derek headed back to Stiles and Scott actually sweating. There was only one more match to go, and then Derek would fight the Beta supreme, or whatever the title was for the winner.

They were all quieter for the last round. It’d felt like a game up until then, when they remembered Derek was actually being tested.

The winner, a man named Marcus, was more than a little intimidating. He was tall and tan, built like a tank, and for all that he looked like a nice guy while he chatted with friends at the other end of the field, he’d taken down all the previous fighters with relentless strikes. They hadn’t met him before, so he must have been one of the wolves living in town with his family.

Derek wasn’t smiling near as much this time, and he was the one squeezing Stiles fingers before he headed over. Stiles couldn’t stop the nervous jitters, but he grinned wide and in a moment of desperation shot Derek some finger guns when he glanced back. At least it made Derek’s smile look more genuine.

Just one more fight, and then they were free and clear, so long as Stiles’ plan worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now that I've calmed down over the massively late upload, what do you think? I tried, but fight scenes Really aren't my thing and the writer in me really hates being put on a timer, so it might be a bit stilted.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright my pretties, we've reached the point where I'm starting my hiatus. I can't believe I'm doing this to you, but I'm heading back to college and I need time to move in and start classes, without running home to bang out a couple crappy chapters for you guys. Hopefully this way I'll be able to come back refreshed and ready to finish this story off.  
> I'm going to be gone for two weeks, so the next update should go up on the 1st of September. I'm sorry for the long wait, but I'd rather give myself too much time, than not enough time. <3

Marcus’ fighting style was simple. Hit hard, and use his weight to his advantage. He was like a machine: every time he got a good angle for punching he just went at it. Even worse, these were the big kid fights, so blood didn’t mean an automatic win. Surrender was the only way to end the fight.

Logically, Stiles knew that it wasn’t like Marcus was going to do any serious damage to Derek, but he also knew Derek was way too careful. From the first swing, he could tell Derek was holding back. As an Alpha, any injuries he inflicted on Marcus would take ages longer to heal. In his last fights that didn’t matter much: Derek was able to win just with his technique, and he hadn’t even shifted except when he used his claw to force a surrender.

Now, as Marcus moved further and further in, leaving thin slices up and down Derek’s arms, Stiles wished Derek would lose control just a tiny bit. Enough to win, before he got seriously hurt.

The fight had started off with quick jumps and slashes, but after a while it evolved to more carefully calculated moves. When Marcus threw Derek onto his back, he turned it into a flip that kicked Marcus in the jaw, but Derek’s punch to the gut was used to hold him still while Marcus whacked him over the head. It was fair, but painful and drawn out. Marcus’ cheek split when Derek clocked him, but it healed quickly, and he repaid Derek by flipping him upside down onto the ground.

Sitting on the grass next to Scott, Stiles wrung his hands and chewed on the collar of his shirt, letting out his restlessness in the actions of his hands and mouth so his eyes could stay focused. “Come on, Derek. Do it for the pack,” he whispered. “Do it for me.”

Out on the field, Derek was pinned down with his face out of view, not surrendering yet, but getting too close for Stiles’ comfort. Then, in a twist Stiles couldn’t even see, Derek was on top and he had that same single claw pressed to Marcus’ throat. The only difference between this and the rest of the fights, was that Derek’s eyes were red.

Stiles watched Marcus try to lift himself, how he struggled against Derek’s brick wall body almost the same as Stiles usually did. It made Stiles wonder just how much more pure strength an Alpha had, especially one with a pack like Derek.

He didn’t wonder for long, because after a probably valiant effort that honestly just looked like a bit of wriggling, Marcus nodded quietly and accepted defeat.

The way the cheering started up, you would have thought Derek lost abysmally. All the members of the Walker pack started clapping and shouting and swarming the field. Most of them surrounded Marcus and lifted him up, but a good amount were slapping Derek on the back as well.

It took a moment for it to kick in that Marcus was a Beta, who’d held his own against a foreign Alpha for a good five minute fight. It was as good as winning the entire thing, and the Walker pack had every right to be proud.

It took another moment for Stiles to realize that Derek  _ won _ . Scott was standing and jumping in the air cheering, but Stiles was moving forward before he’d even managed to get to his feet. Shifting from his awkward, crawl-crouch, he put on a full run, whooping and fist pumping on his way to Derek.

He won. He won, and now whatever the Walker pack wanted to test him on, even if the plan didn’t work, he was already two for two. There was no doubt that they’d done well on the maps and now Derek had proved himself by not only fighting his own Beta as fiercely as he would a stranger, but also by beating their best non-Alpha in a fair fight in full view of all the packs involved. It was perfect.

Derek anticipated Stiles as usual, so when he jumped into a koala grip against Derek’s chest, Derek adjusted to him seamlessly and wrapped an arm around his back to hold him up. With their heights so close, Stiles’ ankles were able to link together around Derek’s hips, and he reached for Derek’s shoulders to hold himself steady. 

The forward momentum Stiles had built up kept him moving even once he was in Derek’s arms, and he let it push his face into the crook of Derek’s shoulder for a hug. As he pulled away, he met Derek’s eyes. It was just like the other times, where he got caught in their color. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the fight, but they hadn’t yet shifted back to hazel, still a bright red. Stiles would have hated how cliche it sounded to think that everything else faded away, if Derek didn’t look just as affected as him.

He’d barely considered looking away when Derek’s free hand landed on the back of his head and pulled him in, pressing their foreheads together for a moment and then tilting his chin up to crash his lips onto Stiles’.

It wasn’t what Stiles thought a mate bond-induced response would be. It was firm and slightly rough, and surprisingly chaste. Derek’s stubble tickled the skin around Stiles’ mouth, but his lips were soft, just like his hands had been. No chapped lips for werewolves, apparently.

A whistle sounded beside them, and they yanked away from each other, Stiles slipping from Derek’s grip and stumbling into a position next to him. Lexa was making doe eyes at them from the edge of the crowd.

“I think that’s the first time we’ve seen you kiss!” she exclaimed. She clapped her hands together like a little kid watching their favorite show. “Completely off the record, you two are so sweet I think I’ve gotten ten cavities since you arrived.”

Stiles face burned as he tried to explain. “We just—I mean that we—well…”

“They just aren’t into PDA,” Scott said. At some point he’d come over to join them, and he was making a face of faux disgust. “You should see them at home, though. It’s awful. Speaking of home, we should go tell everybody what happened before dinner!”

He was giving them an out, and Stiles was completely prepared to take it. Nodding enthusiastically, he stepped forward and promptly tripped over his own feet. Stiles knew Derek would catch him: he was counting on it. As soon as Derek had pulled him upright again, he patted Derek’s bicep and stared at it as he said, “Sorry! Sorry about that.”

As if ‘Sorry’ could cut it. The mate bond was clearly messing with Derek’s head again, and Stiles had completely taken advantage. He just kept screwing up, pushing way too close to the unspoken boundaries of their relationship, and in this environment there was no room to back up when he went too far. Kissing Derek when he was obviously under the influence of something Stiles didn’t fully understand was definitely too far.

Tripping was a good excuse to be able to apologize without anyone questioning it, but it backfired a little when Derek responded, “Me too.”

Stiles smiled as wide as he could and forced a laugh as he pulled Derek toward the house by his wrist, not quite able to make himself take Derek’s hand. “You have nothing to be sorry about: you won! The Betas are gonna be so mad they aren’t here.” Taking this new opportunity, Stiles drowned out his own thoughts with rambling. “You know, I bet Boyd would have won that first round instead of Scott. He’s always been good at countering Scotty’s ambushes. Or even Erica could, if she actually tried. But I’m pretty sure she’d probably insist on losing her second fight and then throwing popcorn at everyone. God, I’m excited to talk to the Betas.”

He kept at it on their way through the busy halls of the house, talking about anything and everything to avoid even thinking about what’d just happened. Scott played along, making his own points and arguing about which Betas could or couldn’t beat him, right up until they reached the bedroom doors.

When he followed Derek and Stiles into the room, his expression instantly went solemn and he cut off Stiles as soon as the door closed. “Why were you doing magic on the field?”

The question threw Stiles completely off guard. “What? I wasn’t! Why would I do that?”

“Your hands were glowing! Both of them, like bright red!” Scott cried. “I don’t think Lexa noticed, but Deucalion sure did! He looked like he wanted to freaking eat you.”

Derek jerked to attention from the daze he’d been in. “He what?

Scott nodded. “Yeah, he looked super pissed at the end of the fight, but once Stiles’ hands lit up it was like he’d discovered Christmas or something. That’s why I wanted you guys to get out of there, I thought he was gonna come over and start something.”

Stiles tugged his hands through his hair and started walking in circles. “Why is everything going red? I’m gonna give myself away as a Spark because of red magic, and Scotty’s eyes are red, and we’re here because a bunch of red-eyed assholes wanna fight Derek since he’s got red eyes and they don’t like it. Fuck, I want my jacket!” He spun on Scott and Derek, who were staring at him again. “Why? Why would Deucalion care that I’ve got magic? It’s not like Sparks are rare: Deaton said most druids are at least a little magical.”

It hadn’t been a conscious decision to keep Stiles’ Sparkiness a secret. But nobody had known about it or mentioned it when they arrived, and there was already so much to worry about with Scott and the Alphas...It’d never come up, and Stiles liked it that way, now that he knew Deucalion’s reaction.

“Back up, what do you mean my eyes are red? I’m still a Beta, my eyes are gold,” Scott corrected. At his side, Derek looked just as confused.

“Right now they are, but they weren’t earlier! I don’t know what caused it, but after your fight with Derek, your eyes went almost completely red. Your true Alpha thing isn’t waiting until you actually need it, apparently, it’s just coming out for the hell of it.”

In the end, they didn’t talk about the kiss. First they were too busy calming Scott down and talking him through what being an Alpha would really be like, as opposed to their experience with Peter, and then they had to go to dinner. It was a celebration they couldn’t miss out on.

Just before they left the room, Stiles was jolted out of his near silence toward Derek by worry. Derek had gone into the bathroom to clean up the blood that’d dried down the sides of his arms and change clothes, but when he came back, the cuts Marcus had left were still there.

“Why aren’t you healing?”

Derek nearly ignored him for grabbing his phone off the nightstand and sliding it into his pocket. After a second, he muttered, “I don’t want to yet. Marcus deserves to see what he managed to land on me.”

Stiles relaxed a millimeter. “He was really good, but I don’t know why you waited until the last second to go Alpha on him. Weren’t you the one that told Lydia to stop playing with her food, before?”

His joke didn’t catch, and Derek didn’t respond. Instead, he headed over to Scott’s, who’d also had to change into something appropriate for dinner. Following lamely behind, Stiles scolded himself again. If there was ever a time when jokes weren’t okay, now was it.

Derek had to be so confused. Maybe the rest of his affection could be written off somehow, but strange impulses to kiss people were hard to ignore. Stiles’ lie was crumbling around him, but he didn’t know how to build it back up or take it down without doing serious damage to whatever his relationship with Derek was.

After all of this was over, what would they even be? Ex’s didn’t make sense, since they never officially dated, and even friends felt like an impossibility. The only thing Stiles had to go off of was…animosity. Derek was a werewolf, a proper one, not a pseudo-magic version like Stiles. There was no way to tell when the mate bond had started having an effect or when Derek’s actions stopped being entirely his idea.

Unless…unless none of them were. If Derek felt the mate bond right away, then every second he wasn’t throwing things at Stiles, or threatening him, could be an accident. All the times he’d protected Stiles, like pushing him away at the pool, even though it meant turning his back on the kanima, and keeping Isaac from attacking him at the police station. What if coming to get Stiles that day last summer was part of it too?

The thought of it made Stiles nauseous. His whole reason for finally feeling confident in himself, in his ability to help the pack and be a part of what they had, all just because of a magical profile match between him and Derek that made Derek inherently want to agree with him.

If he tried to think back, tried to remember the way Derek had reacted to him before they started spending long periods of time together, Derek had hated him. It wasn’t even a lack of interest, Derek had actively despised him, taking every chance he got to cut Stiles down and exclude him. What if that was the only real part of their entire relationship?

If anyone noticed how Stiles trailed a couple feet behind the group, or how he couldn’t bring himself to join any of the conversations around the dining room, they didn’t mention it. He covered it up anyway, rubbing at his forehead and muttering loudly to Scott about having a migraine. 

The Alphas came to dinner, lining up with everyone else to congratulate Marcus and Derek before taking seats uncomfortably close to them. Seated on Derek’s left, Stiles was face to face with one of the twins. Aiden, probably, going by the vicious little looks he threw their way every few bites. Stiles glared back, but his heart wasn’t in it, and he was sure he didn’t look very menacing.

Everything hurt, and Stiles hated that even knowing his entire friendship with Derek was a sham wasn’t enough to stop him wanting to seek comfort from his Alpha. He had an Alpha that subconsciously hated him. Great.

Derek himself looked the same as ever. He didn’t instigate any conversations, but his responses weren’t any less calm and polite than usual. The fact that he didn’t reach for Stiles once stung, but Stiles didn’t have any right to expect anything from him.

After dinner, and an actual phone call to the pack to fill them in on everything important, Stiles escaped into the bathroom and took a long shower. It was the first time in a long time he’d had to talk himself out of a panic attack alone, and that made it much worse. He hadn’t even realized it was sneaking up on him until it hit and he sat on the floor of the tub shaking until his vision cleared.

It made sense now that his panic attacks had mostly disappeared after discovering his Spark. He was surrounded by safe people, by his mate, almost all the time, and there wasn’t anything to even get anxious about. Now that same response was backfiring, making all the anxiety of lying and being threatened triple in intensity because he had actual physical connections to those involved. They were more than just feelings, they were bonds with his pack and his mate, and his brain was on overload trying to deal with it.

Knowing why it was happening didn’t make it easier to handle, but it helped with the fog of confusion Stiles always felt after a solo attack. He scrubbed himself pink under the hot water and then stood there quietly until the steam made it hard to breathe. Once he’d changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth as slowly as humanly possible, Stiles finally opened the bathroom door.

He’d been hoping Derek would just go to sleep. Their meeting with the Alphas and Adam and Lexa was early in the morning, and it would be so much easier to just slip into bed and ignore the problem until it went away.

But Derek was up, sitting on the edge of the bed and fiddling with his puzzle box. When Stiles came into the room, he just looked up, eyebrows raised expectantly. He wanted to talk.

“So…want to go over the plans for tomorrow one more time?” Stiles tried.

There was no response.

“Right, you’re right, we totally have this. We’ll just explain why you need Beacon Hills, they’ll agree completely, and we can go—back.”

To his surprise, Derek sighed and dropped the puzzle onto the nightstand. “At least we don’t have to worry about Deucalion thinking we aren’t mates.”

Stiles chest seized up. “Is that—was that why you did it?”

Derek swung his head back around. “What?”

It was like someone had popped a bubble in Stiles’ heart, and suddenly he felt light on his toes. “Oh my god, that was genius!” he cried. “I mean, a little forewarning would have been nice, but I get that that would be hard to do. It’s perfect for getting him off our back. Well, about this anyway.”

He’d done it on purpose, with a purpose. Purpose was a thing Derek had when he kissed Stiles, which meant Stiles wasn’t taking advantage. The revelation didn’t remove all of the ache Stiles was feeling, but it lightened the load enough that he could smile.

“Right, cool. Not bad for my second kiss. I’m gonna go give Scott another pep talk or something,” Stiles said, heading toward the adjoining door. He needed to decompress somehow, release the tension he’d been carrying and clear his mind for their proposal in the morning.

As he reached for the handle, Derek’s voice made him freeze.

“Stiles?”

A heartbeat that wasn’t his own pounded in Stiles’ ears, and he turned around slowly. What if he was wrong? What if Derek had been completely compelled and Stiles had broken every pretend line of trust between them? What if Derek was finally going to make good on his promise to rip Stiles throat out, as punishment for lying? He had to explain, had to apologize and leave and hope Adam wouldn’t be too angry with Derek.

“Yeah?”

“Remind Scott about not getting too worked up tomorrow. I doubt we want to see how Deucalion will react if he sees Scott’s eyes go red.”

Stiles blew out a breath. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good, S—Derek.”

By the time Stiles got back, Derek really was asleep, curled up slightly and facing the back wall, shirtless despite the A/C.

Chatting mindlessly with Scott about how much they missed videogames and letting Scott whine about not getting to talk to Isaac often enough had helped relax Stiles, but it didn’t fix things. Stiles still had to come to terms with knowing that once he gave himself up, he would likely be kicked out of the pack for good.

The less damage he did, the better, so when Stiles climbed under the blankets bunched up on his side of the mattress, he kept a good distance between his back and Derek’s. It was wishful thinking that he had any effect on Derek’s nightmares, and he needed to wean himself off of the closeness he shared with Derek. It wouldn’t last much longer.

But it was like the world was against him, or at least against Derek, because Stiles was woken up for the second night in a row. This time, to Derek shaking his shoulder softly.

“Wassit?” he mumbled. There was a banging in his head, but when he rubbed at it, it didn’t fade.

Derek’s voice sounded wrecked when he whispered, “Stiles?”

Immediately, Stiles was awake enough to register that the banging was Derek’s heart. He flipped over and sat up a little, trying to see Derek’s form in the dark. It was useless: Stiles really needed to keep a lamp on or something. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

A heavy weight slammed into Stiles chest, knocking him back down to the mattress, and arms wrapped around him like vices. “Sorry,” Derek muttered into Stiles’ shoulder. “Sorry.”

It was too familiar, and before Derek could take another breath, Stiles squeezed at the muscles on Derek’s back with as good a grip as he could manage while his arms were pinned to his sides. “No, no, hey, it’s fine. Don’t apologize, seriously, it’s okay.”

After a couple seconds of quiet, Stiles managed to slip his arms free long enough to get them over Derek’s shoulders and he buried one in his hair, just like Derek tended to do. “Nightmare?” he asked, just to be sure.

He felt Derek nod, and tighten his grip.

“Sourwolf, these happen a lot, don’t they?”

Another nod.

“Maybe you need to talk more too.”

He didn’t expect Derek to respond. It was more of a callback than anything, a reminder of a time when Derek wasn’t so scared. An invitation, but not a request.

Then Derek took a shaky breath. “There’s a lot to choose from.”

Stiles waited for more, letting Derek go as slow as he needed. Rambling came naturally to Stiles, but Derek had been too quiet for as long as they’d known each other.

“Sometimes it’s my uncle. I have to…he dies over and over. Other times it’s this girl. Paige. She died when I was in high school, before the fire. It was my fault too. Most of the time it’s Kate. Not the fire, I wasn’t even home for that. I was at school with Laura. It’s just Kate.”

There was no reason to elaborate. Stiles had figured out the exact nature of Kate’s involvement with Derek around the time she’d shot Derek with a wolfsbane bullet. His response when finding out it was a woman that shot him had raised Stiles’ suspicions, but Scott’s recollection of how creepy Kate was, and how Derek blamed the Argents for the fire had sealed the deal. Derek was only 16 when it happened. Just like Scott was 16 when he met Allison. No wonder he’d been so pissed about their relationship.

That was all Derek was able to get out, so Stiles filled in the empty space that followed his admission. “She’s gone, Derek. She’s gone, and she’s never coming back, and if she ever does I swear to god  _ I’ll _ rip her throat out.”

He meant it too. The sheer fury he felt anytime someone mentioned Kate was enough to convince him he’d have no moral quandaries about taking her down with his bare hands. How Derek was able to handle having Allison spend time with the pack blew his mind.

Derek’s grip loosened, and his nose was no longer mashed into the dip of Stiles’ shoulder, but he was nowhere near sleep. Since Stiles refused to let that homicidal bitch keep Derek awake, he spoke over her memory. “I’m right here, Derek. Nothing’s gonna come after you that I can’t get rid of. We should sleep, Sourwolf, big day tomorrow.” As if to prove his point, Stiles’ fingers sparked red for a moment, before the magic sank into Derek’s skin.

For a second, Derek tensed, but then he let go of Stiles and rolled over. Stiles plastered himself to Derek’s back and didn’t even wait until Derek was closer to sleep before pressing his forehead to the nape of Derek’s neck. It was inconspicuous enough, as Stiles was just trying to get comfortable, and could be passed off as a complete accident.

It was worth it, even if Stiles got found out right now. There was nothing he could do about invading Derek’s personal space, or completely betraying trust that might not have ever been there genuinely in the first place. But Stiles was needed, if only for this. Whether either of them knew or liked it, or whatever, he was Derek’s mate and he had the ability to make Derek feel better, so he would. End of story.

Stiles was beyond willing to cling to his last shred of usefulness until this was over, if it only meant Derek could stop being scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm a complete monster. I Swear to you, the next chapter will explain Stiles' plan, you just have to wait two weeks for it to come out. In the meantime, I hope the fight and kiss were everything you ever dreamed of, and I hope you can forgive me for all this self-deprecating Stiles.  
> As always, your comments mean the world to me. I try to reply to as many of them as I can, but some are kind of unrespondible, which isn't to say I don't love them just as much! Your support is what keeps me writing, and I wanna thank you guys for your patience about this fic. I just wanna do right by you guys, and not give you anything that was half-assed.  
> Much love, I'll see you when I'm in college again! <3


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, did you miss me?  
> After a much longer hiatus than I wanted, I've officially prepped the last chapters of the fic for you all. Now, I don't wanna go on too much before you're all able to get to reading, so all information is gonna be in the end notes.   
> For now, please enjoy the next chapter! <3

Stiles was jittery all through breakfast, dropping silverware and mouthing his proposal silently to himself any time he wasn’t shoving eggs into his mouth or chugging orange juice. He  nearly choked once, and Scott’s pat on the back almost made him spit his food across the table.

There wasn’t any time to rehearse or go over anything before their meeting, so Stiles walked as slow as possible down the hall to give himself more time. Scott bounced on his heels impatiently a few feet ahead, but Derek kept step with Stiles, munching quietly on an apple as though he had all the time in the world. It was nice to have at least one calm person in the group.

Stiles’ hand twitched at his side as he counted out points and made tiny gestures for the words he wanted to emphasize. It was like doing a class presentation, only if he couldn’t stay on track or be convincing enough, the consequences would be way worse than just a bad grade.

“Stop that, it’s driving me nuts.” Derek muttered, grabbing Stiles’ hand to still it.

Of course, then he didn’t let go, and that was a whole other source of inner turmoil for Stiles. Rather than face it, he snipped quietly, “How are you so chill about this? How are you not wolfing out or climbing the walls or sweating or  _ something _ ?”

It wasn’t fair how well holding Derek’s hand soothed Stiles nerves. It was like the heavy clap on the shoulder his dad sometimes gave him, a sensation to focus on and keep his mind clear.

Derek just took another bite of his apple and spoke with one cheek full. “Because it’s going to work.”

“But how do you know that? What if I screw it up?” It wasn’t just Stiles that needed to do the talking, but since he was the one to come up with idea, most of the details were still tucked away in his brain. If he somehow got distracted or forgot something, there wasn’t anyone to pick up the slack.

“You won’t.”

“Damn it, Derek,  _ how _ could you know that?”

“Because I trust you, you idiot.”

Stiles jaw worked silently, opening and closing a couple times while Derek watched him, until he finally regained enough control to snap it shut. What could he even say to that? Derek was placing his entire pack in Stiles’ hands, and he wasn’t even worried about it. It should have set off all his alarm bells again: Derek was displaying so much trust, and he didn’t even have a reason. But why would a mate bond-struck Derek call Stiles an idiot?

The expectant look on Derek’s face insinuated he wanted an answer, but all Stiles could get out was, “Oh.”

If that wasn’t enough to make Stiles’ insides go warm, gooey, and very confused, Scott had paused in the hall to let them catch up and he was nodding emphatically as well. They were being...genuine. Completely genuine. Surely if Derek was being influenced, he wouldn’t think to call Stiles anything mean. Which meant his trust had to be real, right?

Head buzzing slightly, Stiles’ lips pulled up into half a smile. “Let’s do this, then.”

As they entered the meeting room for hopefully the last time, Stiles felt like he could do anything. He had his best friend and his Alpha at his back, and a solid plan to appease the Walker pack into letting them leave sans Alphas. It was going to work. It had to work.

The good feeling lasted only until Adam opened his mouth.

“Good morning, Alpha Hale, Emissary Hale, Scott. I hope you don’t mind, but Alpha Deucalion has something very important that he’d like to discuss with you all before we move to the main point of this meeting.”

His relaxed tone grated on Stiles ears. How could someone be so blind to the threat sitting three chairs down from them? Did he not hear their warnings?

Stiles scanned the subordinates of the Alpha pack, noting matching scowls across each of their faces, except for Ethan, who look completely disinterested. He was picking at his fingernails as though he was avoiding watching a documentary in school, rather than in the middle of a thinly veiled territory war.

Deucalion himself looked more non-threatening than Stiles had ever seen before. He’d removed his glasses to reveal cloudy, damaged eyes, and his smile was so disarmingly kind it made Stiles’ skin crawl. He had the unhappy feeling he was about to be schmoozed.

Fingers folded neatly in front of him, Deucalion spoke quietly, with none of his usual threatening undertones. “Although I am loath to expose information that I doubt you meant to reveal, I feel that it is my duty to bring this up.” His eyes shifted to Stiles, as though he could actually see him. “Emissary Hale, you are a Spark.”

He’d been expecting this. He’d known there was no way Deucalion would give up the opportunity to do something that might damage Stiles’ credibility in Adam and Lexa’s eyes. Knowing it didn’t make him feel safe, though.

Stiles played it cool, taking his seat as he said, “And?”

To his surprise, Deucalion didn’t even twitch his head toward Adam, though there was an audible gasp from Lexa. “And having seen your clearly accidental display of magic, you are untrained. I can help you there.”

Somewhere in the back of Stiles’ head, he was laughing hysterically at the unintentional use of a line from Harry Potter, and the words ‘I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks’ hung behind his lips, ready for any opportunity. Biting them back, he settled for, “Excuse me? One minute you’re trying to kick my pack off our territory, and the next you’re offering me magic lessons? What do you even know about druid magic?”

“Admittedly, I haven’t been the easiest person to get along with,” Deucalion said, “And I regret that.” Stiles couldn’t help noticing the lack of the word ‘sorry’. The use of it would probably have given away his lie.

Suddenly, Deucalion shook his head. “Let me start from the beginning. My pack is largely migratory, but as you can see, Ethan and Aiden are still supposed to be in school. Settling down in a largely quiet place, like Beacon Hills, would allow them to graduate. I’m sure you can understand how that would be important for me, as their Alpha.”

And damn it, Stiles could. He’d be desperate to find a safe place for the pack to graduate and live normal lives, if they were in Deucalion’s position. Of course, Deucalion had also convinced his pack to murder everyone they ever trusted, so education probably wasn’t as high on his list of priorities as he was making it out to be. Goosebumps rose on Stiles’ skin, and he let go of Derek’s hand to cross his arms defensively over his chest. Rather than call Deucalion out, he nodded once. Despite the urgency of things, he was curious to see where Deucalion was going with this.

“I promise you, my behavior has come completely from pack interest, not any specific animosity toward you.” He paused, probably for theatrical effect, the drama queen. No one reacted, and Deucalion looked like he knew that they wouldn’t, because his smile took on smug quality. He wasn’t lying, at least about this. “As for my being knowledgeable on magic,” He spread his hands wide. “My own Emissary is quite powerful, and we are very close. I have no doubt she would be happy to help you.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back a snort, and Adam cleared his throat pointedly. “Emissary Hale, you should show Alpha Deucalion a little more appreciation. As a magic user, your abilities can be dangerous if not controlled. Alpha Deucalion is offering you a generous gift.”

Anger and fear warred in Stiles, and he hated that they were both being projected straight into Deucalion’s smug English nose in the form of chemosignals. He didn’t want to think about losing control of his powers, and especially about who he usually lost control around.

It was Derek who responded first, voice tight and sharp around the edges. “Stiles doesn’t need your help. He’s already being trained by a druid living in our town.”

“Yes, I heard that Alan was attempting to work with you.”

Again, Deucalion didn’t look away. Suddenly, Stiles was painfully aware of the intense eye contact he was locked in with the Alpha, and how his eyes had gone red. There was no denying it, he was actually staring at Stiles.

He leaned forward, clasping his hands together again and dropping the smile. “Are you really going to trust a retired druid to teach you? A Spark’s magic is fickle, and without  _ proper _ training, there’s every chance you will end up hurting someone close to you.”

Derek. Everyone in the room knew that he meant Derek. It wasn’t fair how well he was reading Stiles, as though he  _ knew _ about Stiles’ panic attack when he thought he’d burned Derek. He was still acting like everyone else wasn’t there, like he was letting Stiles in on a terrible secret.

All of the old warnings Derek had given Scott right after he was bitten came to mind. He’d been so sure Scott would hurt someone without a teacher. It was probably the same with Stiles’ magic. But he didn’t have a teacher that knew what he was dealing with. Deaton himself had admitted in one of their first meetings that he could do very little magic, only enough to make the simplest runes work. How could he possibly train Stiles without knowing what he was going through?

He wasn’t considering it. Really, he wasn’t. Deucalion was pushing his buttons, thinking it would get him scared enough to agree, but all it did was make Stiles even more dead set against him. Still, just to get the full picture, he asked, “What would you want in return?”

Deucalion’s smile turned wicked for a split second. “Perhaps it was a mistake for us to claim your land. Wouldn’t it be much simpler if we merged our packs instead?”

Eyes wide, Stiles dropped back in his chair. He’d known Deucalion had an interest in him, and certainly in Scott, but this?

Obviously, Deucalion thought he’d found checkmate. Adam was sure to insist on this peaceful option, rather than let Derek finish his tests. A guaranteed win was always better than risking a war. He thought he’d backed them into a corner.

Stiles winced when the low drumming of Derek’s heart picked up a notch. The merging of packs would only keep Derek, Stiles, and Scott safe. The rest of the Betas would always be in danger, always at risk. Erica and Boyd had already felt Deucalion’s version of pack bonding once.

It had never been a option in Stiles mind, but he took pleasure in knowing he didn’t even have to fight dirty to win. “Thank you, Alpha Deucalion,” he started, “you’re right.”

This time  _ he _ let a pause hang in the air. He waited until Deucalion started to smile, and his Alphas perked up, and then he dropped the killing blow. “It  _ was _ a mistake for you to  _ try _ and claim our land.”

He waited just long enough to see Deucalion’s brows furrow, before breaking eye contact for the first time since entering the room and nodding respectfully to Adam. “Let’s move on to the real reason we’re here.”

“You say that we don’t deserve to keep our land because it’s too big for us, but that’s just not true. First off, there are more of us than the Alphas. We have seven people in our pack, which is a whole two more than these—” Stiles stopped himself when Derek’s warm hand touched the back of his arm in warning. “—people. Second, we  _ need _ the extra space. Although it isn’t something we’re going to be able to start until we’re settled properly, and probably not until all of us are graduated, we have a plan to use Beacon Hills as a supernatural foster home, of sorts.”

He looked over at Scott hopefully. His puppy face might give them an edge.

Scott nodded enthusiastically for a moment, before letting his expression go somber. “I was attacked by a rogue Alpha, and if it hadn’t been for Derek and Stiles, who knows what might have happened? There’s no way I’m the only one that’s been left without any help. So what we want to do is offer that. Like that school from the X-Men movies. We can use the extra land for training grounds in the preserve, and Derek can give kids a place to live while they get themselves under control.”

“With a born wolf, bitten wolves, two Alphas, humans, and magic users,” Derek cut in, “we’re uniquely equipped to handle a wide variety of supernatural issues. The lack of support available to young supernaturals in difficult circumstances puts them at a higher risk of dangerous, violent activity. By surrounding them with people who’ve gone through similar situations, we can help them recover and find them new places to live.”

Stiles leaned back in his chair again, this time with confidence. Scott was turning on the charm, and Derek sounded like he was doing a TED talk, so completely sure of what would happen no one would dare disagree. “The kind of operation we want to run here means we’re going to need every square inch of our space. How else are we going to take care of orphaned wolves, or unaware children caught in a human foster system? Trust me, Alpha Walker, this is something you wanna see happen.”

They had Lexa hook, line, and sinker, and Adam wasn’t too far behind. “That sounds wonderful!” Lexa gushed. “Stiles, any wolf you guys adopt is going to be so lucky to have you and Derek taking care of them. I can’t imagine two more perfect mates for the job!”

Adam seemed to be about to agree, but Deucalion slammed one hand down on the table.

“Look,” he growled, “I think I’ve put up with your charade long enough.”

Stiles startled when Kali spoke up for the first time. She began tapping her grown out claws on the table as she hissed, “We know you aren’t mates. We had Braeden do a little digging for us before reporting back. She’s still in Beacon Hills, you know. Turns out the only person in town that’s ever even seen you two together is a pretty little blonde named Weather or something.”

It was Derek who spoke first, glaring over at Adam. “You let them spy on us?”

Adam snarled at the implication and stood. “Of course not. Our contract with the mercenary ended as soon as she confirmed delivering the summons. Whatever happened after that was out of our hands. Now, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

“That’s just ridiculous, Adam, anyone who’s seen them together can see that they’re together,” Lexa urged. Still, she looked over at Stiles with unsure eyes. “Right, Stiles?”

Thrown off balance by the rapid turn of events, Stiles faltered. “Right?”

Immediately Adam’s eyes switched to red, and Stiles suddenly remembered that he was in a room with seven Alphas. Eight, if Scott lost control. He held up his hands and tried again, speaking as forcefully as he could. “Right! Right!”

“That’s enough, even if there were a bond, it’s clearly not substantial enough for you to solidify with a bite,” Deucalion scoffed.

“Stiles is seventeen!” Derek defended, but he was rising from his chair as well.

Ennis took his turn at bat, laughing cruelly. “That didn’t stop you with the last girl. She didn’t take too well to the bite, did she?”

As Derek went into his Beta shift, so did Scott next to him, and then it was like a domino effect until all the wolves in the room had mouths full of fangs and glowing eyes. Lexa had backed into place behind Adam, trying to calm him down, even as she sought protection for the fight about to come. The only saving grace was that Scott’s eyes were still gold.

Frantic and furious, Stiles grabbed onto Derek’s arm and threw the other out into the space between everyone. “Stop! Everyone just stop!” he shouted.

The bout of red flame that flew out of his palm shocked everyone as it raced in a line down the table and flickered in place, a barrier that gave off plenty of heat without seeming to burn the wood beneath it.

Stiles took his opportunity while everyone was still too surprised to be attacking each other. Screw his secrets. “Braeden clearly isn’t a very good spy, because she’s completely wrong. Derek and I are—” His voice wavered a little, but he knew his heart was steady. “—mates. In our pack the bonds aren’t completed until everybody involved is a legal adult. It’s all very consensual.”

His truth killed the anger on Adam’s face, but Deucalion still wasn’t done. “He must be using his magic to lie.”

It sounded weak even to Stiles’ ears. Adam had shifted back, and Lexa came forward to stand next to him again. Rather than leave the slightest doubt, Stiles lifted his hand from Derek’s arm to his neck. In the brief moment that Stiles left contact with Derek’s skin, the barrier sank down to the wood, but when he reconnected at Derek’s bond spot the fire burst upward and crackled loudly, tiny flames licking around the edges of Lexa’s ever present notepad without leaving any marks.

He’d expected a flinch, a twitch, even an inhale of surprise. There’d been no warning for Derek to prepare himself for the shock of feeling the bond at full force. But his features just slid smoothly back into his human face, and he reciprocated, though it was obviously more of a gesture than anything. As a human, Stiles wasn’t  _ supposed _ to have a response to it. He did anyway, and the fire on the table blazed hot.

There wasn’t much that could make their bond more obvious.

With a weary sigh, Adam rubbed one temple and sat back down, ignoring the fire burning at eye level completely. “I think I’ve seen enough. The Hale pack has more than proved its ability to protect its land, and its need for the extra room. Alpha Deucalion, you violated our agreement by spying on the Hale pack. I suggest you make yourself and your pack scarce. You’re to cease and desist any attempts on claiming Beacon Hills, and if you don’t stay away, you’ll face serious consequences.”

There were multiple huffs from the Alphas, but Deucalion snarled at them until they went quiet and led them from the room. He didn’t bother with his cane, and stalked past Stiles, Derek, and Scott with complete ease, a last show of strength.

Adam peered over at Stiles through the flames once they were gone. “Emissary Hale, would you mind?”

“Oh...uh, sure.” Stiles wasn’t entirely sure how to actually make the magic go away now that he’d summoned it. He tried just pulling away from Derek, but while it made the flames sink down to a line of candlelight, they still didn’t go away.

Just to give Stiles one more heart attack for the morning, Derek reached over almost nonchalantly and ran his fingers along the table in the fire. His hand gathered the magic up like he was clearing lint from a trap, and then it sat in his palm, soaking in slowly. Scott seemed enraptured by it, and poked a finger into it, only to jerk away with a gasp. His skin wasn’t damaged, but the thin film of red was apparently unpleasant enough that he wiped it off on Derek’s arm.

Adam waited for a moment before relaxing properly. “That’s—”

“—Amazing, Stiles! Can all druids do that?” Lexa was equally charmed by the glow still emanating from Stiles’ right hand, but she knew better than to put her own fingers anywhere near it as Stiles tried to shake it off.

He flapped his hand a little, “Uh, I guess so?” When he tried to use his clean hand as a scraper, it only spread the red again. How the hell was he supposed to get rid of it? “I should probably go deal with this.”

“This” being the magic, and everything else Stiles was trying not to think about just yet. Like Derek’s suspicious acceptance of the mate bond, and how he grabbed for Stiles’ magic without any hesitation. Even now he was reaching for Stiles’ hands, trying to help remove Stiles’ red gloves.

Stiles shifted just out of his way and turned to go out the door with Scott on his heels.

“Just a moment, please.” Adam tried again. “I hope you understand my place in all of this, Alpha Hale. This was the only way to find peace. Also, I ask that you and your pack stay one more night. There is something important I need to share with you, but it’s best we wait until the Alphas have left.”

Derek didn’t say anything, but from the way Adam didn’t protest, he must’ve agreed, so Stiles smiled a goodbye at Lexa and headed down the hall.

He walked to the room, but it was a brisk walk, just a notch down from a jog if he was honest. There were very important things he needed to think about, and possibly rant about, that needed to stay behind soundproof doors. The whole way there his hands continued to glow, even though he tried desperately to make it fade. He imagined pulling the magic into his skin, letting it dissipate into the air, even tried rubbing it in like lotion, but nothing worked.

At the last second, Scott jumped in front of the door and pushed his way inside so he wouldn’t get abandoned in the hall.

“Not now, Scotty. I need to have a conversation with your Alpha,” Stiles warned, slamming the door shut once Derek had entered the room.

Scott froze, then abruptly facepalmed. “You guys haven’t figured this out yet? Are you two serious right now?” Throwing his hands in the air, he switched directions and headed for the connecting door instead of the bed. “I was thinking we could call the pack, maybe enjoy ourselves for once. But it’s fine, you two just duke it out. Whatever. Just remember soundproof doesn’t mean shoutproof. Or moanproof. So keep it down.” Just before he let the door click closed behind him, he muttered sadly, “I owe Isaac and Lydia ten bucks.”

Stiles took a moment to process everything Scott had said. There was some kind of a pack pool going on about whether he and Derek would figure out they were mates, and somehow Stiles wasn’t surprised. It was the first question that Scott had asked that gave Stiles pause.

He looked over at Derek, whose expression was a mirror image of his. While they spoke at the same time, Derek’s intonation was much softer than Stiles’.

“You knew?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, you're amazing, have I mentioned that?  
> I've been on hiatus for a month and a half, and my comments only stopped blowing up about two weeks ago. The amount of support you've all shown me is Incredible, and I just wanna say thank you!  
> Now, Fic business.  
> The fic itself is completely finished and edited, and re-edited by my Beautiful beta [PerseShow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perseshow) to ensure quality, but I won't be uploading them all at once. Don't wanna give you cavities or anything. Instead I'm returning to my original upload schedule of one chapter every 2 days, until the fic is finished.  
> Again, I hope you're all still interested in this, and thank you for the support you've shown me. Your comments and opinions on this fic and all my other writing make my world go 'round. <3
> 
> p.s if you have any questions, be sure to leave them in a comment. I read Every One.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late upload. I don't even have the excuse of needing to finish writing it, I'm just lazy. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to [Tdswans1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tdswans1) for accidentally making a pretty close guess about what this chapter is doing differently.

The sharp edge to Stiles’ voice wasn’t at all what Derek was expecting, and he recoiled for a moment, trying to think of why Stiles would be surprised. When no logical explanation came to mind, he scowled.

“Of course, I knew, Stiles. I’m a werewolf!”

But there was no understanding in the amber eyes glaring back at him. Stiles just looked furious, exactly as Derek had thought he would when he imagined telling Stiles the truth.

All Derek wanted to do was leave, just get out and escape the judgement in Stiles’ eyes, but that wasn’t really an option unless he wanted to hide in Scott’s room. He’d known from the beginning that this entire charade was a mistake, that Stiles was way too smart to spend all this time with Derek and not realize something was up, but apparently Stiles had already known. What did that mean?

Had he known the whole time, and just pitied Derek too much to say anything? Stiles was a near master of manipulation when he needed to be, so was that was he’d been doing every time Derek thought it was the bond? Humans could reject it completely if they wanted. If Stiles had done that, and was just playing along for Derek’s benefit...

Suddenly, Derek thought he was going to be sick.

Oblivious to Derek’s internal war, Stiles was still shooting daggers through his pupils. “Why the hell would that matter? Scott had no fucking clue when he first met Isaac!”

Derek shook his head and backed up a step, trying to rid himself of his nausea by putting space between himself and Stiles’ scent. It didn’t help, as the entire room was filled with the heady honey and ozone blend, something that’d made the last few days near heavenly. The memories of Derek’s total lack of self-restraint around Stiles all went sour as they floated through Derek’s mind. He’d been  _ hanging _ on Stiles, clinging to him, flirting with him, all with the perfectly reasonable excuse of needing to pretend they were mates. And Stiles had let him.

His head felt cloudy, but he focused on Stiles’ words as best he could. “Yes, he did. Bitten or born, when you meet a potential mate, you know it. He just didn’t understand what was going on.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that? You’ve known this whole time? Since  _ we _ met?” Stiles was advancing now, trembling with anger.

Anyone who thought an Alpha couldn’t be intimidated, hadn’t met Stiles.

Derek matched him backwards, step for step, not sure where exactly he thought he could go, but too strung out to even pretend he wasn’t trying to get away. Normally, it’d be so easy to just puff up his chest, growl, and flash his eyes at the attacker until they were cowed enough for him to get control again. But Stiles laughed when Derek puffed up, crowded even closer when Derek growled, and smiled like he’d just come home whenever Derek’s eyes turned red. It was infuriating, and one of the best things about him.

He wasn’t afraid of Derek in the least.

That left Derek without any real defenses, except silence. He couldn’t meet Stiles’ gaze, didn’t think he’d be able to avoid running away if he had to see Stiles’ pity. So Derek watched Stiles’ hands, still bright red with magic.

Derek wasn’t stupid. He knew there was something about Stiles’ magic that reacted when he connected with other people. So far, he hadn’t seen it happen with anybody else, but then, Stiles didn’t really like being touched for too long by most people. He’d just been putting up with it this week for the sake of the pack.

The first time Stiles had done real magic, when he’d activated the runes all over the bones of the pack house, it’d been more than a little scary.

As a rule, Derek didn’t particularly like fire. Or electricity. Or water for that matter. Each of those elements had been used against him in life-threatening ways, and Derek wasn’t very good at letting those kinds of things go. So when Stiles had lit up like an ember, and a fiery glow had run down to the hand he’d planted on Derek’s chest, it took everything in Derek not to retreat.

But it hadn’t burned, when it sank into Derek’s t-shirt. It’d tingled and fizzled, and it sank into his bones, much like it did the beams of the house. At nearly the exact same moment, the constant hyperawareness Derek had experienced with Stiles since the day he’d scented something immensely intriguing on his land and followed it to find two teenagers wandering around the Preserve in search of the inhaler Derek’d found the night before, strengthened to ridiculous proportions. It only lasted an instant, but in that time Derek could hear every twinge of Stiles’ lungs as he inhaled, could feel Stiles’ heartbeat through his palm like a jackhammer against his chest, and could smell a near painfully strong dose of pure ozone and electricity.

Since then, every time Stiles’ magic rose to his skin and sank into Derek’s, he’d nearly melted. Sometimes it tickled wildly, while others it was like holding a cup of hot tea on a freezing day. Derek  _ loved _ it. Even now, his fingers twitched to grab at Stiles’ hands.

But Stiles didn’t need to let Derek touch him anymore.

One of the hands lifted and snapped in Derek’s face. “Hello, are you even listening to me? Damn it, Derek, did you know I was your mate when we first met?”

Slowly, Derek nodded.

It was like all the air went out of Stiles, and he finally gave Derek space that Derek immediately wanted to close up again. He looked horrified.

“So you  _ were _ ...and then you just let me…” Stiles’ whisper trailed off, and his eyes unfocused, like he was staring into space. “Holy fuck. Derek, why the hell did you let me...why didn’t you fucking tell me to stop?”

Wait, what? “I didn’t know I needed to.”

Stiles jerked back to attention. “No! No, of course not! No—look—I’m sorry, I just. I’m just really sorry.” His voice took on a fervent, insistent edge to it that Derek was far too familiar with, but when Derek tried to get in his space and chase away the fear scent, Stiles took his turn backing up. “No, I’m fine. Seriously, I refuse to make you help me just because I’m freaking out over something I did to you.”

“Stiles,” Derek asked, taking a quick step forward anyway and reaching out for Stiles’ wrist, because  _ something _ wasn’t right. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you mean, what am I talking about? I’m talking about what we’re both talking about, which is that we’re mates, or potential mates, or  _ something _ and I’ve been taking advantage of it without realizing since the day we met.”

The pure venom Stiles had spit out with the words “taking advantage” took Derek by surprise. “I thought you said you knew?” he asked. Mixed signals didn’t even begin to cover what Stiles was sending his way.

Suddenly Stiles was grasping at Derek’s hand, desperate and apologetic. Derek had to try hard to focus on what he was saying, instead of the surge of warmth flooding up his arm. Normally, Stiles’ hands were freezing, but they went hot whenever he did magic.

“I didn’t. Derek, I swear, I didn’t know until the night before we left to come to this stupid place. I was gonna tell you when we got back. I should have told you earlier, but I didn’t know it would make you...uh...you know.” Stiles trailed off, and his gaze shifted to the empty space over Derek’s shoulder.

He’d known it was a bad idea to put off telling Stiles about what mates were, but Derek had also known that as soon as he started talking about it, Stiles would make the connection between them. Then he would leave, or rage, or any number of things, and Derek hadn’t been ready to deal with that. But he’d never have guessed how distorted the image of a mate could become in Stiles’ overactive imagination.

Taking no chances that Stiles wouldn’t hear and understand him, Derek put his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and watched him until their eyes met. “Stiles, mate bonds can’t  _ make _ anyone do anything. And even if they could, we don’t have one, just the potential for one.”

“What?” Stiles hesitated a little. “But, you told me the bond makes you want to agree with your mate, makes them your first priority.”

“No, I said it strengthens what you already have. At best, it’s a nudge. And Stiles, that’s only after you solidify the bond.”

This wasn’t what Derek had imagined. This was supposed to be when Derek admitted how he felt and Stiles stormed off, or in Derek’s worst scenarios, laughed. Instead, Derek was giving him a werewolf lesson, and Stiles was staring at him like he couldn’t quite believe he was real.

They looked at each other for a while. Derek couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just stayed quiet, waiting for Stiles’ response.

To his credit, Stiles didn’t rush ahead and say the first thing that came to mind, like usual. He was quiet too, mouth opening and closing once in a while like he thought he was ready, but then decided he needed more time.

Finally, Stiles spoke to the ground, carving out each of his words carefully. “Okay, so, just, let me get this right for once. We’re... _ potential _ mates, which means it isn’t set in stone yet. And that means that whatever relationship we do end up having, has the ability to somehow become more intense?”

“Essentially, yes.” Again, it wasn’t the anger Derek was expecting, but he was starting to think he wasn’t going to get that. After all, when was the last time Stiles had actually gotten angry enough to run away from him?

Stiles’ words sped up steadily as he became more confident. “And werewolves somehow  _ know _ when they meet someone that could be their mate. And that means you knew when you met me. But you still decided to hang around me, and it wasn’t because of the bond. So, what was it?”

Derek would have been furious at being essentially taunted if Stiles didn’t genuinely look confused. He flashed back to the summer, to Stiles scolding him about blaming himself for the bad things that’d happened to his pack, then turning around and claiming all responsibility for every bad thing that had happened  _ period.  _ He was honestly clueless, for such a brilliant person.

It didn’t make it feel any better that Derek was being forced to say it out loud.

“It was because I love you, you idiot.”

He hadn’t meant to add the idiot part, but Stiles wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t anything, actually. Just standing there and gaping at him.

Now Derek  _ really _ needed to leave.

Letting go of Stiles like he really had been burned, Derek turned and walked jerkily away toward the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Stiles cried. He began to wring his hands carefully. “I don’t even get to respond?”

Derek didn’t look back as he gritted out, “I’m pretty sure a reaction like that counts as a response.”

The snort that Stiles gave was actually lighthearted, as if he didn’t care one way or another, but then he spoke. “Well, can you blame me for checking to make sure I wasn’t in some coma induced fantasy?”

“What?”

Caught and confused, Derek faced Stiles again. 

Stiles was smiling and rubbing a hand through his hair. “Uh, I mean...right back at you?”

If he was just playing games… “ _ Stiles _ .”

“Okay! Do you have any idea how hard this is? I have no idea how you did it. It shouldn’t be that hard to say ‘I love you too…’” He trailed off, hand dropping to his side. After a moment he smiled softly again and shrugged a shoulder. “That okay?”

It was Derek’s turn to check he wasn’t in a coma, opening and closing his mouth, and vaguely considering doing something ridiculous that wouldn’t ever happen in a dream like this just to prove he was awake. Finally, when Stiles didn’t burst out laughing, or shout for Scott and the two packs to come into the room and see his joke, Derek let some of his tension drain away.

Stiles loved him too. It hadn’t been a mistake, or a deliberate lie. None of the closeness, the hand holding, none of the intensity he’d convinced himself he was imaging in Stiles’ eyes when they got just a little too close, was fake.

Parts of Derek wanted to argue, because why the hell would Stiles choose  _ him? _ He was the broken one, the orphan who never should have become an Alpha, the awkward, overaggressive adult who hung around with a bunch of teenagers. He’d turned Jackson into the kanima and effectively gotten Isaac’s dad killed, no matter how much a piece of shit he was, it was still murder.

But dammit, they  _ worked _ . They had for months, since the day Derek had found Erica and Boyd torn apart in the woods and, running to the only safe place left for him, ended up outside Stiles’ window. Maybe the potential for bond had encouraged him to go there, but it was the knowledge that Stiles wouldn’t turn him in, wouldn’t blame him for someone else’s behavior, that’d gotten to him to reach for Stiles’ help before anyone else’s. Derek hadn’t had someone genuinely believe in him since he was 16, and ten-year-old Cora had looked up to him like he was some kind of superhero.

He wanted this. So, even though it tore out of him like a secret, he spoke as firmly as he could, so Stiles couldn’t doubt it. 

“Definitely.”

Then, there wasn’t anything else to say. They were finally honest with each other, but even though it should have made Derek feel free or light or happy, he was still frozen in fear. They were across the room from each other, and for the first time in days, Derek didn’t really want to bridge that gap. He could feel it, like his shirt was caught on something and holding him back, a pull to stay away. It didn’t matter that they both loved each other, Derek still couldn’t touch.

With how often Stiles joked about his own sexuality, Derek honestly expected that he would do the work. Maybe he’d run and jump on him, or just yank his clothes off then and there. Instead, his fingers tapped rapidly against his pants legs, and he rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet.

“So, I know this is supposed to be the part where we do the big embrace slash have sex or something, but I’m getting this intense vibe that you don’t want to. Don’t get me wrong, I know you weren’t lying, and I think I might start floating soon from knowing you actually l-like me, but uh...just tell me what’s up, Sourwolf.”

Rather than properly answer, Derek pinpointed Stiles’ stutter. “Love. I said love, not like.”

He could have sworn Stiles flinched. “Y-yeah, you did.”

“You’re doing it too.”

“Doing what?”

“You don’t want to do anything.”

The shuddery laugh Stiles let out was almost painful. “Believe me, that’s not the problem.”

It was one thing for Derek to have pause, he knew exactly why he suddenly needed to keep space between them. But, he seriously doubted Stiles had the same reason. “Then, what is?”

Stiles rubbed at the side of his head furiously, before crossing his arms and looking at Derek defiantly. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

“You’re seventeen,” Derek said simply. He’d known from the beginning how totally inappropriate his affection was, but it’d been easy to ignore it when he was sure Stiles didn’t feel the same. Even the pretend was easier when he knew they were just playing their parts. Now, being near Stiles while the wisp of possibility hung in the air felt like an impossible feat. Derek would be perfectly happy to just go back to what they had, so he could stop feeling so much like—

“Kate. God, right. I get it. Honestly, I think my dad might kill the both of us if we did anything.” Stiles looked down at the carpet and mumbled nonsense for a moment before jerking his head up. “Okay, what if we just didn’t go there? We could stay as far away from there as you want. Nothing...uh, okay, nothing below the belt until I’m eighteen.” Suddenly, his face crumpled. “Ugh, that just makes me feel like I’m on a countdown until I’m fully cooked. Gross. No, how about graduation? That’s, what, a year and a half? And then, it’s not like it’d be an instant thing, it’s just, once I graduate it becomes a possibility. I’ll be a full grown, totally capable of consenting adult, with his diploma.”

Derek blinked a few times, trying to process. “Why would you wait?”

Now, Stiles finally laughed properly, with the same smile on his face that he got whenever he put his red hoodie on or his jeep started up first try. “Are you kidding me? Derek, I’d wait till I finished college to be with you. I’d wait a decade. Derek...I’d be totally happy to  _ never _ have sex with you  _ ever _ , if it meant we could be together. Were you not there when I said ‘I love you too’? ‘Cus, that’s what that means.”

But Derek only furrowed his brows and squinted at Stiles. “Then, what’s your reason? If you’re so okay with this, then what’s wrong?”

And just like that, Stiles’ smile was gone.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. I…” Stiles took a few too deep breaths and tried again, “There is so much stuff I need to explain to you, it’s not even funny, but the gist of it is that my Spark is trying to make me a as close to a werewolf as possible. I mean, I can hear your heartbeat, smell you from across the room if I try hard enough, and everytime we touch, I get this crazy strong feeling of  _ right _ .” He rambled on before Derek could interject, “But mostly, it’s been driving my bond with you, or my potential bond,  _ whatever _ , crazy. My magic goes nuts whenever our skin touches, and even though I’m  _ supposed _ to be unaffected by half this shit, it’s like I stuck my spine in a light socket sometimes when you touch the back of my neck. If my magic can do all that...who’s to say…”

“Who’s to say it’s not actually affecting the way I feel?”

Slowly, ashamedly, Stiles nodded. “I just need to know you really want this. Want me.”

Derek wanted to say he couldn’t believe Stiles didn’t believe him, but really, he could. Stiles had always underplayed his own value in his relationships with the pack. Was it any wonder he was so quick to blame magic for someone having serious romantic attraction to him?

Trying to be reassuring, Derek took a step closer. “Stiles, I told you. I love you.”

It was easier to say the second time, but Stiles didn’t look soothed. “I love Lydia, and Scott, and Isaac, and Erica, and Boyd, but I don’t  _ want _ them. Do you want me?”

“Stiles, I need you. I wouldn’t even be here without you.”

Now Stiles took a his own step forward, growling harshly in frustration. “I wouldn’t be here without my chickenpox vaccinations, but that doesn’t mean I  _ want _ to get stabbed with a needle, Derek! Need doesn’t equal want. Love doesn’t equal want. Do you actually want me, or do you just need the stuff I do for you? Do you just love the way you feel around me? If I were a thousand miles away and completely incapable of doing anything  _ for _ you, would you still want me?”

Then, Derek got it. Without hesitation, he stalked over to Stiles and caught his face in both hands, twining his fingers tightly around the back of Stiles’ neck so he couldn’t escape. It made so much sense now, why Stiles never shied away from Derek when he held him still. It wasn’t just that he didn’t think Derek would hurt him, it was that Stiles  _ knew _ he wouldn’t.

“Yes. I want you. I have wanted you since you called me Sourwolf and proceeded to get me impaled on my crazy uncle’s claws and declared the most wanted fugitive in the state of California. Since you used my body to get Danny to do computer work for you. I wanted you when you were lying next to me paralyzed and useless. This isn’t magic, Stiles. It’s just me.”

Stiles’ next words came out breathy and hopeful. “So, nothing below the belt means kissing is still on the table, right?”

Somehow, knowing that Stiles really was just as broken and scared as Derek was, made it so much easier to lean down and press their lips together. That terrifying ‘what if’ was gone, locked behind a door in Derek’s head by Stiles’ promise to wait, and Derek’s own need to show Stiles how very much he was wanted. Not for his body, or his abilities, but for his comradery and his biting wit, and a sarcasm that made things feel a little less hopeless.

It wasn’t what Derek meant to do: he’d gone in for something soft and sweet, but with Stiles’ lips parted, it ended up intense and eager. Stiles was the one to break away first, only to throw his arms around Derek’s shoulders and jump into a clinging koala hug like he hadn’t just sent Derek’s brain into overdrive. A litany fell from lips Derek planned to memorize, not the heart wrenching “I’m sorry”s Derek was used to, but gleeful whispers of “I love you” pressed into his neck and jaw.

When they fell into bed, it was because Stiles accidentally kicked the back of Derek’s knee and almost got dropped on the floor, so Derek tossed him against the pillows and pinned him into the blankets before curling around him like a contented house cat. This was how they were  _ supposed  _ to be, Derek could see that now. Easy. Confident. Secure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, aren't they cute?


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! Next chapter, only mostly late.

When Scott’s knock came on the inner door, it was enough to wake Stiles from his doze. Possibly his favorite thing about spending so much time with Derek was the napping. That and the newly introduced kissing. The kissing was definitely his favorite. Especially the soft kisses that Derek had peppered over his forehead as he was falling asleep. If Stiles had thought Derek was clingy before, it was nothing compared to now.

As he sat up to greet Scott, Derek sat up behind him and maneuvered Stiles into his lap so he could nuzzle at Stiles’ head. The overt affection held a different tone, now that they weren’t pretending to pretend, and Stiles flushed hot as Scott peeked into the room.

Scott sniffed delicately and fearfully, then relaxed. “Oh, good. Glad you guys could keep it in your pants. It’s almost dinner, so we should probably go find Alpha Walker.”

“You know, you can just call him Adam when we’re talking about him. He’s just a person, like Derek,” Stiles teased, extricating himself from his own Alpha’s embrace so he could straighten up his hair and shirt.

But Scott screwed up his face a little in a grimace. “It just feels wrong not to call him Alpha Walker. Not all of us are immune to Alphaness.”

It was nice to just chat with Scott as they wandered through the rooms of the house, searching for someone who might be able to help them find the Alpha. It was even nicer having Derek all over Stiles, holding his hand and bumping shoulders with him, smiling freely the way he usually reserved for their private pack nights. It was like a light had turned on in him.

Admittedly, Stiles felt a little glowy too, but that was mostly because he was actually glowing. Thankfully it was restricted to his hands and wasn’t too obvious, but there was a definite red sheen from his fingertips to his wrist that Derek seemed intent on soaking up.

They found Lexa sipping a mug of tea in the kitchen. Her head jerked up as they entered, and her fingers began a staccato beat against the ceramic cup. “Oh, I was just about to come get you guys.”

For the first time, Lexa looked her age. No longer bouncing around like a teenager, it was easier to see that Lexa was actually in her late twenties or even early thirties. Her face was set into a solemn frown and her laugh lines had been replaced by worry wrinkles across her forehead.

“Lexa, what’s wrong?” Stiles asked, stepping up beside her. If someone had gotten hurt, or sick…

But Lexa plastered a smile on her face for a whole second before it crumbled again. “Nothing, really,” she muttered. “Just...please don’t think differently of me, okay, Stiles? We really did what we thought was best.”

Her words put Derek and Scott on red alert, and even Stiles wavered a little. “Uh, I’m sure you did? Is this about what Alpha Walker wanted to show us?”

Instead of responding, Lexa stood up and led them out of the room, her tea forgotten on the counter. They trailed behind her through the house and out to the backyard, toward a shed that was a bit more like a barn. Inside, it was surprisingly clean, filled with three four-wheelers and countless bikes tangled together in a rack, and other equipment. Lexa bypassed them all and went to the cellar door built into the wall.

“Emissary Walker,” Derek said, voice tense. “I’d like you to explain what’s going on before we go any further.”

“I promise your pack is safe, Derek. Here, just let me—” Lexa pulled the door open with a small click and stood to the side.

Stiles was about to ask her how that was supposed to answer Derek’s request, when Derek dropped his hand. He was sniffing at the air, as obvious as Scott. In big gulping breaths, he breathed and padded closer to the doorway.

Then, he whined.

It was broken, and scared, and Stiles reached for him, only to miss because Derek had bolted down the steps. “Derek!” he shouted, racing into the stairwell and pulling Scott along by the wrist.

He found Derek at the bottom of the twisting stairs, trembling and staring into the room ahead of them.

“Derek, what’s wrong?” The corridor Derek was blocking was too small for Stiles to properly see over Derek’s shoulder, and Derek wasn’t paying enough attention to him to move.

Stiles stopped when he heard Derek whisper, “Cor?”

Oh god.

“Cora? Cora?” Derek’s voice rose with each iteration, and then he was gone again, running into the room and stopped mere inches away from a dark haired girl standing next to a desk. He stopped inches away from Cora Hale.

The Hale family wasn’t a common topic with Derek, but Stiles had plenty of background information from his own research, and whatever Derek let slip when he was comfortable. Besides, Derek’s little sister Cora had been in Stiles’ own fifth grade class, though they’d never really known each other. She was listed among the dead in the fire, and god knew Peter had never mentioned her. She was supposed to be dead, but a werewolf’s nose never lied.

Scott tugged on Stiles wrist, wide eyes turned to him for explanation, but it was Stiles’ turn to be distracted.

He was watching Derek speak faster and more frantically than ever before. It barely even sounded like him.

“Are you okay? Where were you? What happened? Are you okay?” Derek rambled. Completely forfeiting his usual requirement of personal space, he grabbed Cora and pulled her tightly against his chest, burying his face in her shoulder and grooming the top of her head at the same time.

As rigidly as Cora was standing, Stiles could see tears running down her cheeks and a bright blush turning her whole face pink. She had a single hand on Derek’s sleeve, clutching the fabric with white knuckles.

Stiles also saw Alpha Walker standing to the side, politely averting his eyes.

For a moment, Stiles saw red. “What the  _ fuck _ is the meaning of this? What is she doing here, what did you do?”

Strong hands suddenly clasped around his forearms, and Stiles realized he’d somehow crossed the room toward the Alpha. He snarled at whoever was holding him back, and watched Scott shrink away from him with a mutter of, “Holy shit.”

“I want an explanation, Walker!”

Whether it was the display of magic from earlier, or the honest rage Stiles couldn’t be bothered to control, Adam’s eyes widened and he didn’t defend himself from the disrespectful address. “It’s not what you think. We found her when we intercepted Alpha Deucalion and his pack. She was starving, deprived of both food and moonlight until she was half mad. We spent the time before you arrived rehabilitating her.”

Finally catching on to the severity of the situation, Scott cut in. “And then you kept her down here and didn’t tell us about her. Why?”

Stiles answered for Adam, spitting the words in his direction with as much venom as he could muster. “Because he thought it would ruin his chances for a ‘peaceful solution’. Too fucking bad. I’m gonna find Deucalion right now and blow him sky high. I’m gonna…”

Whatever he’d been about to say faded as Stiles caught sight of Derek again. His eyes were blazing red and streaming tears as he held Cora’s face with gentle hands and whispered to her. It didn’t look like he’d even noticed any of the rest of them were there yet. Staring at him like he was the moon itself, Cora nodded at him and whispered back, and Stiles’ heart just hurt.

“We—we need to leave. Come on.” Stiles took a tentative hold of Scott’s arm again, blinking an apology for his aggression, and shot Adam a look that had him walking toward the door instantly. 

They were almost out after him, when Derek called out, “Stiles. Scott. Wait.”

There was something so young in Derek’s eyes when Stiles looked at him, and the smile on his face was almost bashful as he impulsively nuzzled the side of Cora’s head. “This is my little sister, Cora. Cora, this is Scott, my second. And this is Stiles...my mate.”

For all the emotional stress she was clearly going through, the look on Cora’s face was downright evil. “Stiles, huh? What kinda name is that?” Then, she softened. “I remember your mom. She used to pick you up from school. ”

If she remembered his mom, then she also remembered the illness that’d meant his mom stopped picking him up. She’d died the same year as the fire, and Stiles recognized the understanding in Cora’s eyes. It was the same as Derek’s.

“Trust me, it’s better than listening to people butcher my real name.” His voice didn’t portray the joking tone he was going for quite right. The only person who  _ hadn’t _ butchered his name was the woman who’d given it to him. His dad tried, but his midwestern accent couldn’t quite wrap itself around the many syllables the way a born Polish speaker could.

It was Scott who tugged on Stiles again, saying, “We’re gonna go. Take your time, okay?”

Derek just smiled and turned back to Cora, looking 16 again.

Neither of them came to dinner, but Stiles hadn’t really expected them to. Adam, still humble about his decision to hide Cora, promised to have someone bring them food, so he left it alone and went to call the pack and explain everything to them. Unable to be sure of how he felt, Stiles didn’t return Lexa’s tentative smile at the table, but he did meet her eyes.

Less than a minute into the call Scott covered Stiles’ mouth and chirped, “They’re together now. We owe Isaac and Lydia ten bucks.”

From the other line came two cheers and two groans.

“Damn it, you guys, you couldn’t have angsted for like two more days?” Erica cried.

Scott scoffed. “At least you didn’t guess two months too early.”

“That’s because you’re an optimist, Scott. The rest of us see exactly how oblivious our Alpha and Stiles are. It’s part of why they’re so perfect together,” Isaac crooned in a sticky sweet voice. Stiles would have flipped him off if they were in the room together, the snarky bastard.

It wasn’t until Scott was about to go change for bed that Stiles started to wonder when Derek was coming back.

_ Hey Sourwolf, do you know how much longer you’ll be? -S _

_ If you wanna stay there just let me know so I don’t worry dude. -S _

_ Derek, you have no idea how happy I am for you, but call me back. -S _

_ Seriously dude, 10 more minutes and I’m coming to find you. -S _

_ Derek? -S _

It wasn’t like him. Derek always responded, even if it was just to tell him to shut up. After nervously knocking on Scott’s door and finding him gone, Stiles was quickly becoming a ball of anxious energy. He was just about to go check the bathroom for Scott when a quick knock came to the door.

“Finally, where have you—” Stiles froze with his hand on the door knob. Sound proof or not, being this close to the door usually meant he could hear Derek’s heart, or at least smell him. But there was nothing. And if it was Scott, why would he come through the front?

Carefully, Stiles shifted his fingers to the deadbolt. It wouldn’t stop whoever was out there, but it’d force them to make noise and alert somebody. 

“Don’t bother, Stiles. You’re going to open the door nice and quiet, if you don’t want to cause unnecessary trouble for your pack.”

The muffling of the door didn’t hide the posh English accent of the speaker, and Stiles opened the door with a scowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, you guys are getting pretty close to the end. Sorry buds, but you knew I couldn't just leave things perfect. Also, I hope you guys like the version I did of Cora. I wanted her to come back, and wanted to give her a plausible reason for not being introduced way sooner.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, this one is up before sunset. Though, with you all in different time zones, that might be a moot point. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

It was a sick parallel, walking with Deucalion through the quiet hallways of the house. The Alpha kept one hand on Stiles’ shoulder, claws poised carefully over his heart. Derek had told Stiles that a bite was most common, but even too deep claws had a chance of turning someone. Well, turning them, or killing them. Stiles wasn’t exactly eager to find out which category he fit into.

The rules were simple and unspoken. If Stiles tried to run, or fight, he would die. If he tried to alert anyone in the house by making noise, he would die, and his pack would probably die faster as well. Not to mention how many people in the house would get hurt trying to help. That was, if they even wanted to help.

How suspicious was it that they hadn’t come across anyone else in the manor? Surely someone in massive pack of werewolves had to be the slightest bit nocturnal. Where was everybody?

Stiles was almost resigned to them all working together. How could it have gone any differently?

There was no safety mechanism on werewolf claws, but Stiles had the feeling even if there was, Deucalion wouldn’t bother with it. You didn’t become an Alpha over a pack of other Alphas by being safe.

Along the way, neither of them spoke. Stiles would have been bouncing off the walls from the silence, if he weren’t held in place by finger knives. As it was, he let his mind race as they took a familiar path toward the back door.

He expected to panic. After all the freaking out he’d been doing over nothing, this was the exact time that an anxiety attack might be useful, might slow Deucalion down and give his pack some more time. But it wasn’t something he could fake, and now of all moments, he couldn’t summon the least bit of signature unbridled fear.

Sure, the situation was scary, and Stiles was terrified out of his mind for his pack. Scott and Derek and even Cora now, were probably waiting for their execution or manipulation. At best, they were probably locked in another moon sealed vault like the one Adam had described finding Cora in.

But as long as they weren’t dead, Stiles was okay. He could help them. For once in his life, Stiles was absolutely positive he would be able to help, though he had no idea where the confidence came from and no real plan.

As they entered the backyard, Deucalion actually let out a little breath that sounded like relief. Or maybe he was just catching a scent now that they were outdoors. Stiles wasn’t very hopeful.

The urge to speak made Stiles’ tongue itch, but he pressed his lips together and stared around, checking for anyone who might be able to help. There was no car for him to be shoved into, and Deucalion wasn’t heading for the treeline. Instead, he marched Stiles over to the same shed and shoved him inside. Stiles knew exactly where they were going.

As they awkwardly walked down the steps into Cora’s bunker room, Stiles finally picked up Derek’s far too sluggish heartbeat. He also heard two sets of growling once they hit the bottom. At least everyone was together.

The image that came into view was horrifying. In one bare corner, Cora was strapped into heavy chains attached to the wall, struggling to shout over the wad of cloth shoved in her mouth. Sharp teeth wouldn’t help her if she choked to death on it. On the opposite end, Scott was being held down by the twins, another set of shackles on his ankles and wrists, this time bolted to the floor. He was similarly gagged and bleeding from a couple slashes down the side of his face.

Both of them looked furious as all hell, and were straining toward the same figure in the middle of the room, next to the bed.

Derek was pinned like a bug, down on his hands and knees with a piece of rebar through his chest. Beneath him, a puddle of blood was spreading across the concrete floor and as it grew, Derek slipped a little further down into it. Above him, Kali sat on the bed, holding the bar still. As soon as she saw Stiles, she twisted it viciously until Derek fell down to his forearms, splattering blood onto Kali’s shoes.

“Look who’s here, Derek,” she whispered.

Screw getting turned, screw dying, Stiles shoved forward into Deucalion’s claws and tried to break away. Ennis, previously unneeded, immediately stepped forward and yanked Stiles’ hands behind his back, holding him properly still.

It was as though something was forcing its way up Stiles throat, and words spilled out of him. They felt hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in days, and bottomless with rage. “Let me go. Let go of me! I said LET ME G—” Another gag was forced into his open mouth, and he nearly vomited at the taste of it.

“Now, now. We all know what happens when your Spark touches Derek,” Deucalion rumbled.

Stiles screamed through the fabric, pulling at Ennis’ grip until his shoulders burned like they were about to pop out of their sockets. At the sight and probably the smell of his fear, Scott and Cora both doubled their efforts against their bindings, but the sheer amount of chains on Cora and the added strength of the twins made it pointless.

Things went momentarily blurry around the edges as Deucalion wacked Stiles over the head. “That’s enough, stop riling them up. We have things to discuss.”

It was going to be impossible if they didn’t remove Stiles’ gag, but when Deucalion turned his back on Stiles again, he realized who ‘we’ was.

Deucalion took his time pulling the desk chair across the concrete and planting it front of Derek. When he sat down, he extended one claw and stuck it under Derek’s chin, forcing him to look upwards. “Now, now. Don’t go pretending to be more injured than you actually are. You’ve got at a least a few more minutes before the rebar either heals into your skin, or you bleed out. Let’s use our time wisely.”

Stiles tried to call out again, imagining any kind of distraction would let Derek suddenly spring up and save the day, but Ennis squeezed his wrists until the bones rubbed together, and Stiles’ shout became a groan of pain. It had the right effect though, drawing Deucalion’s blazing gaze, and Derek’s own faded red eyes.

“Stop it. You—you said…” Derek coughed hard, and dark blood dripped down his chin, reminding Stiles of another time, and god he hated that there was more than one, he’d seen Derek nearly die. He tried to take it as a comfort. If Derek could survive Alpha claws to the lungs, he could survive this. But how long had he been trapped in that position, with Kali wiggling the rebar around inside his chest to keep the blood flowing and the pain present? A one and done stab was one thing, but there hadn’t been nearly so much blood before.

Snarling slightly, Deucalion said, “Ennis. I promised Derek we wouldn’t hurt his pack. Do  _ not _ make me a liar.”

Obligingly, Ennis’ grip loosened just enough that the feeling came back to Stiles’ fingers.

“See? We’re not unreasonable. Oh, Derek. I had so many plans for your pack. There was so much potential to glean from you all. An Alpha and his True Alpha second, and even a Spark.” Deucalion cooed. “I’m a bit of a collector you see. Our Ethan and Aiden here, one of those rarer than rare twin wolves, capable of merging into one Alpha form, after a little training from me. Kali has some very special skills with fighting, using all her claws, as I’m sure you noticed.”

Searching what little Stiles could see of Derek’s chest, he saw four slash marks over Derek’s collarbone, much closer together than usual. Confused, Stiles looked down at Kali’s feet. Sure enough, she was barefoot, and her toenails were long and sharp, painted black. Gross.

“And Ennis, well, you remember him. My wild card. With the lot of you I would have had a full deck. But there were some...complications. Not to place the blame, but Ethan and Aiden were the ones supposed to finish off your Betas. Apparently they misheard the instruction ‘Make sure they’re dead.’ But that’s what I get for running a pack of Alphas. Everyone wants to make their own decisions. Then, when we had to double back to finish the job, the Walker pack caught up with us. More than a little frustrating, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

The monologuing was way too much for Stiles to deal with. Textbook villain was one thing, but this was wasting precious time of Derek’s, not to mention it was disgustingly cliche. 

Not that Stiles was even looking at Deucalion. His eyes were glued to Derek’s face, his ears tuned in to the slowing of Derek’s heart. Now, Stiles was starting to feel that panic he’d been looking for. They’d only just fixed things. They’d finally worked out the runaround they’d been giving each other for months, and Derek had just gotten his sister back. He wasn’t  _ allowed _ to die.

Perhaps Ennis had cut him without Stiles noticing, because every other moment or so, a bit of something hot touched his fingers. Only when he tried to rub his fingers together one handed to remove it, the sensation of dropping candle wax on his skin didn’t go away.

After the third time, Stiles finally realized what he was feeling. His magic. It was literally sparking on his fingertips, unable to take the corporeal form he was used to, because he wasn’t in contact with Derek.

Thinking fast, Stiles mouthed his way around the gag until he had a good angle on it. Without elongated, pointed teeth, there was nothing to catch the fabric when he puffed outward, and the foul rag fell to the floor. “What do you want then? It’s gonna be really hard for any of us to join your pack if we’re  _ dead _ .”

“I should have known you would be impossible to silence as long as you’re conscious,” Deucalion snarled. “What I  _ want _ , Stiles, is the bare minimum of what I came for.” He turned back to Derek. “I want you. But, there are certain rules, an initiation if you will, that I’ve come up with to make sure that anyone joining my pack is strong enough.”

With Deucalion distracted, and all of his goons watching the proposal with interest, Stiles tried to catch Scott’s eye. His red eye, that is. The shackles on Scott’s wrists and ankles were flimsy, meant to hold a Beta, or even an unruly Omega. If they could get him to tap into the Alpha power Deaton had been so sure he had, Scott would be able to break out. Just a little distraction was all they needed, just enough for Stiles to get to Derek’s side.

Once he got Scott’s attention, Stiles mouthed at him, slowly, “True Alpha.” Then he wiggled around in Ennis’ grip weakly enough to avoid catching anyone’s attention but Scott’s, and flicked his fingers in a vaguely magical way. He hoped the rapid blinking he received meant Scott understood him.

The sound of his own name pulled Stiles back to the conversation at hand, even though he sneaked glances at Scott, who was now alternating between squinting hard at the ground, and taking deep breaths around his gag. “I understand what that’s like, Derek. Because of this, I’m going to give you a chance. The most obvious part is whether you’re going to join my pack or die, but let’s pretend you’re going to make the smart decision. Rather than killing your entire pack, you can pick one to save. Your mate, or your sister.”

Derek immediately opened his mouth, but Deucalion tutted him into a choking silence. “Think carefully about this. Now you have to understand that obviously little Cora here wouldn’t be allowed to join with you. It’s an Alpha pack. I’m sure we could ship her back to where we found her though, only a little worse for wear. And Stiles...well. I like feisty, but not that much. He’d need a little bit of behavior training.”

“Cora. He picks Cora.” Stiles interrupted. 

The smack upside the head that followed was fully expected, and planned. Scott clearly needed a boost, and Stiles was pretty sure if seeing one pack member injured wasn’t enough, watching it happen to a human would be. As hoped, Scott growled a little louder.

Derek tried to, but the sound caught on more blood, and his head drooped down to his shaky forearm. They were running out of time.

“Come on, Ennis. You really don’t want me in close quarters. I’m pretty impossible to keep a leash on. Not like you. How long did it take to get you house trained?”

This time, Ennis shoved him against the wall face first, and Stiles hit his cheek so hard, his teeth tore up the inside. Making sure Scott could see, Stiles twisted around to spit blood onto Ennis’ shirt. Dog jokes were cheap, but effective.

Deucalion jumped up from his chair. “That’s ENO—”

Out of the corner of Stiles’ eye, he saw what had to be a mistake. Scott’s eyes had gone plenty red, and as he snapped out of his shackles, it almost looked like Ethan  _ let go _ . With a roar that made his attempt from a year ago sound like a kitten mewling, Scott threw himself on top of Ennis and knocked him away from Stiles.

Free at last, Stiles ducked under Deucalion and planted one hand on Derek’s shoulder, and the other over Kali’s face, causing her to shriek and jerk away. “Scott, Cora, get DOWN,” Stiles yelled, before coving Derek’s body with his own.

Stiles didn’t know any useful spells. He didn’t understand even a tenth of what his magic was capable of, and what rules there were about the use of energy for one thing or another. All he knew was the fire burning in his stomach that was fighting to escape him, and the need for his pack to be safe.

Everything behind Stiles’ eyelids turned bright red for a split second, and then things went horribly quiet.

Ennis, Kali, and Deucalion had been hit the hardest, Stiles noticed as he straightened his upper half into a properly kneeling position. Magic shimmered viciously around long clawlike gashes in their flesh, a hole through Kali’s heart and burns across her face in the shape of a hand, the absolute destruction of Ennis’ abdomen, and the unidentifiable face of Deucalion. They were all down for the count, but Stiles knew his magic would keep them from healing at all. If they weren’t dead already, they would be soon.

Huddled on the ground, out cold, but not looking harmed, were Ethan and Aiden. Deucalion had said they were the ones who left Erica and Boyd alive, and Ethan had let Scott escape. Even if they did something good out of cowardice, they still did it.

Scott and Cora, however, were completely untouched. Cora was still chained and gagged, moving her gaze between Stiles and the Alphas frantically, but Scott stood up and dusted off his jeans like it was no big deal, Alpha eyes blazing. “My best friend is Harry Potter,” he said numbly.

“Let Cora out,” Stiles managed before turning his attention to what really mattered. The small amount of force it’d taken Stiles to get as much contact as possible with Derek had broken what little strength he’d had left, and even as Stiles said his name, Derek collapsed in slow motion. He sank down the rebar until he was laying on the floor, what sounded scarily like a death rattle coming out as the rebar caught and dragged on his flesh. His heart didn’t thud so much as plod at a pace Stiles had only heard in sci-fi shows where people went into cryogenic sleep.

Everything Stiles knew about first aid said to keep objects you were impaled on inside your body so you didn’t bleed any more than you had to, but Deucalion had said the iron could get stuck if Derek healed around it. Lost, Stiles tried to kneewalk around to Derek’s head, but only managed to slip in his blood and drop a hand into it.

Here, now that there was no one around to fight and nobody else to take control, was where Stiles faltered. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Derek was actually dying, right in front of him and there was no magic bullet to find that would save him. “Derek?” his whispered, staring down at his own glistening red hand. The blood dripped down his wrist, and Stiles almost lost himself watching it. “D—Derek?”

The flurry of activity around him didn’t register as anything more than a shift in static until Cora stood over Derek and ripped the rebar straight up out of him without hesitation. Stiles cried out like he was the one it’d been done to, then forgave her instantly when she kneeled on Derek’s other side and began to pet through Derek’s hair with fervent strokes, like the act of grooming was enough to heal him.

The next real sound Stiles’ heard was a howl from Scott. It seemed pointless until the pounding of footsteps came down the stairs and a whole mob of werewolves appeared. Scott and Cora were shouting their heads off, and once or twice a hand tried to pull Stiles away from Derek. Each time the touch disappeared again with gasps of pain, like Stiles was still cooking. If they asked questions, Stiles didn’t listen. He was too busy trying to make thoughts work. One by one, coherent ideas crawled through his mind until something useful stuck.

Stiles couldn’t do spells, but he could use runes if he had something to paint with. With his clean right hand, Stiles grabbed the edge of Derek’s shirt and dragged it up as far as the fabric would stretch. Then, holding it up, he began to draw over Derek’s ribs with the improvised paint already coating his left hand. Nothing he’d ever read had said he couldn’t use runes on a living creature, and even if they had, Stiles didn’t care because he couldn’t hear Derek’s heartbeat anymore.

Using blood had an interesting effect, as Stiles didn’t need to concentrate at all once his symbol was finished. The moment the last line was in place, light flared up around the symbol, and suddenly Derek had a red tattoo of a simple medicine cross in a circle over his lower ribs.

Breathing wasn’t even an option until a tiny blip made itself known over the pounding in Stiles’ chest. Then it came again, and again, small but steady, and Stiles was suddenly more tired than he’d been in his entire life. His glow was fading, and so was his strength, so when Scott gripped Stiles’ shoulders with both hands and yanked, Stiles didn’t protest the manhandling.

“Hey, Scotty. Turns out I  _ can _ do some of the things you do,” Stiles mumbled, losing consciousness fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Whaddya think? You know I couldn't let any of that 'Deucalion lives' bullshit stand. No. We don't DO that here. That bitch killed Boyd and Erica, he doesn't get to be "redeemed". Fuck him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, next chapter! I know some of you had some theories about how all the loose ends were getting tied up, and I hope that this works for you guys. We're so close to the end, I'm excited to share the last chapter with you guys on Wednesday!

The fact that Stiles took longer to recover from his two minutes of magic usage than Derek took for his near hour of agony was slightly unfair. Still, Stiles didn’t complain when he woke up as the left parenthesis to Cora’s right, with Derek sound asleep in the middle and Scott curled up across Stiles and Derek’s legs. He also didn’t complain when he was bundled into the back of the Camaro with Cora at dawn, his precious hoodie finally returned to his grasp, and lulled to sleep by the subdued mood of the car and the long drive.

In True Alpha fashion, Scott had taken over the entire Walker pack situation while Derek was unable to deal with it himself, as far as Stiles could tell. No one had dared try to visit him and Derek while they were resting, and the in morning the only members of the pack that showed their faces while Derek and Stiles were packing up the Camaro were Adam and Lexa.

They were solemn, and did nothing more than hand Cora an envelope to give to Derek before they drove away. Derek, of course, handed it off to Stiles so he could focus on driving.

_ Derek, Stiles, Scott, and Cora, _

_ At this point, I doubt you want to hear our apologies, so instead I want to share with you the changes we’re making in response to this disaster. Ethan and Aiden have been dealt with, properly. As they are underage, we used some of our contacts outside the country to find them somewhere safe to learn control and be punished for their crimes accordingly. Don’t worry, at least five hunters will be escorting them to their new home. We’ve also scheduled meetings with surrounding territories to discuss a better, safer way of dealing with violent wolves. It should never have gotten so far, and we owe you a debt for not only putting up with our outdated and unethical traditions, but for opening our eyes. We hope it goes without saying, your land is yours. Period. Should you ever need it, you have our support. _

_ Things will be different, _

_ Adam and Lexa _

It was in Lexa’s handwriting, and written so familiarly Stiles knew Adam probably hadn’t had much say in what was written, but he appreciated it all the same. Rather than reading the letter aloud, or handing it around for the others to see, he just folded it up and tucked it into his duffel to share with them another time. It could wait until they were home.

The living room of the pack house had been turned into a sea of pillows and blankets and he and Derek and Scott were all pulled into it and pounced on by the rest of their neglected pack. While Cora didn’t join in, she still sat close to Derek and let him groom her softly as Isaac started up a movie that no one bothered to watch in the midst of all their catching up.

Everyone in the pack had finangled their way out of school for the day. They devoted the first few hours with their  _ two _ Alphas and their pack mom to scenting and talking over each other and willing away the stress that’d clearly accumulated on their hearts in Derek, Scott, and Stiles’ absence.

While it was obvious everyone knew about Stiles’ magic by now, they didn’t bring it up until Stiles’ arm finally began to shimmer faintly where it had been resting against Derek’s own all day. It was much more faded than his usual glow, but it was there, and this time Stiles didn’t try to hide it.

“So, that thing, does that happen every time you guys touch?” Isaac asked. “I never noticed it before. How do you make it go away?”

Erica leaned in a little. “More importantly, does it happen when you bang?”

“Gross! I don’t wanna hear about Mom and Dad doing it, Erica!” Thank god for Isaac and his duckling imprint on Stiles and Derek. He had his face scrunched up in horror at Erica’s still waggling eyebrows.

The awkward moment was over almost before Stiles could think to blush, but in a second, there was a tiny tap on his shoulder. Cora hadn’t spoken to him much, just smiled once in a while behind Derek’s back and sniffed curiously at the boy who smelled so much like her long lost brother. Her voice had grown around Derek, but in the face of his pack, her words were shy and curious. “Seriously though, how does it work?”

“No idea, it just does. Deaton said he didn’t really get it either,” Stiles admitted.

An exasperated sigh came from the lower corner where Lydia managed to look graceful, even half buried under Boyd’s legs, with Erica’s hair mixed into her own. “Isn’t it obvious? Stiles is a Spark, a power source. He’s basically an open circuit. When he touches Derek, they close the circuit and we’re able to see the power running through them. Like turning on a lightbulb. Stiles just needs to learn how to close his own circuit so he’s able to use it whenever he wants.”

“How is he supposed to do that?” Boyd asked.

Scott wriggled up from his position. “Please say magic wand, please say magic wand.”

“No, numbskull. He just needs to carry a piece of Derek around with him, on his skin all the time. Like a symbol of their connection.” Suddenly her smile went sharp. “Like a bond bite.”

This time Stiles really did blush, and so did every wolf in the room. Even he knew that bond bites weren’t something talked about very publicly, it was like shouting “Blowjob” in a mall. Hearing Deucalion say it had made Stiles’ skin itch, but with Lydia he just huffed, “I’d figured that part out already, Lyds.”

The instant the words came out, Stiles realized his mistake, but he was way too late to stop Derek’s entire body turning to stone. Scrambling up to his feet, Stiles threw his hands in the direction of Scott and blurted, “Scott’s a True Alpha, with the red eyes and everything. Uh, discuss. On a totally unrelated note, Derek, can I talk to you for a second?”

He almost didn’t think Derek would get up, but Cora actually shoved at her older brother until he stood. Derek followed Stiles to the entrance of the living room before pausing, and Cora actually laughed. “I’ll be fine, just  _ go _ Der.”

Mindless, Stiles went up the steps instead of toward the kitchen, searching for somewhere a lot more private to have this particular discussion, but once he reached the top floor, he balked.

Everyone in the pack had a personal room in the pack house, except Stiles. It wasn’t that there wasn’t enough space, there were actually three spare rooms at the moment, and once Erica and Boyd combined their rooms and Scott and Isaac did the same, there would be even more. It was just that if Stiles was staying the night at the pack house, everyone else was too, so they always slept in the living room. If he was just hanging out for the day, he either stayed on the couch, or joined one of the others in their room.

This meant there wasn’t actually anywhere for Stiles to take Derek to talk that would be soundproofed, unless he commandeered one of the Beta’s rooms, or hid in the bathroom.

The decision was made for him when Derek took a firm hold of his shoulder and directed him down the hall to the same room they’d shared with Erica and Boyd at the beginning of the summer.

It looked completely different now. Not only was the dark wood floor smooth and shiny, but the walls were painted a navy blue. The massive bed in the center of the far wall, the same wall they’d propped the injured Betas against once they could keep their balance, had daring white covers. Stiles was struck by the meaning that color held. If the covers were white, it meant Derek wasn’t worried about staining them, whether with blood or dirt, or the awful black bile werewolves produced when they had wolfsbane in their system. It meant he felt safe in this room.

At the foot of the bed was Derek’s duffel bag, and the puzzle Stiles had given him was sitting on the nightstand, bits of the image already coming together.

Stiles hadn’t been in Derek’s room since the remodel, but his overwhelming curiosity was put on hold when Derek clicked the lock on the door and rounded on him, eyes blazing.

“Look, first, just know I wasn’t trying to hide it or anything. I just forgot you didn’t know!” His initial explanation of how his magic was being affected by Derek was severely lacking, but afterwards they’d been so caught up in just being happy, he hadn’t thought to add anything.

While Stiles had been slightly basking in the way Derek remained tender all the way back into Beacon Hills, that fell away in a flash. The Derek standing in front of him now looked very similar to the one he’d met in the Preserve on the second day of school in sophomore year. Growling lowly, Derek clenched his hands. “How much more am I missing, Stiles? What else haven’t you told me? I can’t keep walking around with half the truth! Since when do I not know what’s going on with you?”

He had a point. Part of their whole dynamic was that they always knew what was happening with the other. If Stiles missed school, Derek knew exactly why and where he was instead, and was usually  _ with _ him. If Derek was storming around the house snapping at his Betas, Stiles knew what or who the culprit was and his entire to-do list shifted in order to fix things. They didn’t lie to each other, and they didn’t hide things. Except for the mate thing, which Stiles was willing to consider a moot point.

“I don’t know! It’s not like I planned to hide this shit from you, it just all circled back to the mate bond, which my magic apparently  _ cannot _ recognize is different from a potential one, and I couldn’t figure out how to tell you one without the other.” Somewhere along the line stuff just started to get pushed under the rug, and Stiles didn’t think too much about it.

“So tell me now.”

And Stiles tried, it was all on the tip of his tongue, but suddenly his mind went blank and he honestly couldn’t think of a single thing that Derek didn’t already know. He blinked, staring into the middle distance, air caught in his throat. “Uh…”

“ _ Stiles! _ ”

Always good under pressure, Stiles rebooted and the words just shot out. “There’s the smelling and the sound of your heart, and the fact that when you do the Alpha roar I feel it in my goddamn bones, and my magic thinks we’re soulmates or something so it only reacts to you and nobody else. I think it’s been making your nightmares go away. I’m pretty sure you’re fucking brimming with it by now because it takes hours to fade on its own but sinks right into your skin, and as soon as I mentioned it to Deaton I knew that if we ever actually bonded I could probably access all kinds of ridiculous stuff. Like level a city or regrow a forest type shit. When you were dying I ripped the Alpha pack apart with my mind. And...and…I think my magic is almost as in love with you as I am.”

They hadn’t been alone in almost twenty-four hours, but it felt like weeks since the last time Stiles had told Derek he loved him. He wasn’t used to the words yet himself, and the last thing he wanted was to let the pack hear something that still felt like a secret between the two of them.

Derek’s tense shoulders drooped, and his hands opened at his sides. He looked just as uncomfortable as he had in the hotel room. “Why would your magic like me? Why would you?”

Parroting Derek’s words back at him, Stiles whispered, “Love. I said love, not like.” Then, he couldn’t help adding, “I thought you—” The whole thing could have been some kind of fever dream from when he’d passed out after saving Derek, for all Stiles knew.

“I do. I just don’t get why you would.” It came out terse and embarrassed, like Derek had been thinking it for ages and only just managed to get the words out.

The two of them were officially perfect for each other, and Stiles could finally see what the rest of the pack had apparently been dealing with for months. “Sourwolf, you’re an emotionally constipated, overprotective, impulsive asshole that attracts trouble like no other. Of course I’m in love with you.” The pink tint appearing on Derek’s ears at the l-word made Stiles’ heart skip a beat and he pushed on, eager to see it get worse. “I’m so fucking gone on you and your stupidly pretty eyes and when I watch you with our kids it’s like I’m in fucking heaven. We have  _ kids _ , Derek. I do your goddamn laundry, and I come home to you after a shitty day at school and your hugs are like my favorite thing in the world and it took less than a week of sleeping next to you for me to be positive that I wanna do it for the rest of my life.”

Declarations like that should’ve scared any potential for a relationship off, but apparently Derek was into long-term commitment because his heartbeat ratcheted up to about a thousand beats a minute. In the blink of an eye, the backs of Stiles’ knees were pressed up against the edge of the bed and Derek was lowering him back onto it, one hand on his hip. Once he was settled, Stiles watched Derek swallow hard and felt his fingers tremble a little. Derek was staring at Stiles like they were a thousand miles apart, instead of a couple inches, and it was killing him.

At the last second, the edges of his mouth lifted in a smile. “You give your magic too much credit.  _ You _ make the nightmares go away.” Then, he turned hesitant. “Can I keep you, Little Red?”

Normally, on any other day, with any other person, Stiles would have laughed his ass off at discovering someone that wanted to  _ keep _ him. Except, maybe he wouldn’t, because the word made his heart sing, and werewolves were possessive little shits at the best of times, and if anyone in the entire world had a reason to be scared of having nice things, it was Derek. 

So Stiles slid a hand over Derek’s shoulder and onto the bond spot, saying softly at the same time, “Duh, we’re mates.”

This kiss was not chaste. It wasn’t even soft. It was fierce and passionate, and just as Stiles had learned to read Derek’s emotions in his eyebrows, he knew that hidden in the way Derek pressed his tongue against the roof of Stiles’ mouth and the way he sucked hard on Stiles’ bottom lip, was a whole monologue of things Derek couldn’t figure out how to say any other way.

Stiles was beyond excited to figure out what they were.

Making out wasn’t something Stiles was familiar with, but he hoped that the deep breaths Derek was huffing through his nose, and the fingers tangling in his hair meant he was doing something right. It was hard to know, lost as Stiles was in the haze of pleasure that came from having kiss swollen lips for the first time in his life, and the tingling of Derek’s stubble against his cheek and jaw when Derek nuzzled into his ear before mouthing at the shell and nibbling it.

Gasping, Stiles tilted his head to the side, stretching his neck out in offering while little tingles of electricity travelled down his arms and legs.

Sounding absolutely wrecked, Derek mumbled, “ _ Fuck,”  _ and buried his face into Stiles’ skin, licking and biting tenderly enough not to really hurt, but with enough pressure to make Stiles’ nerves  _ zing _ .

However ridiculously good Derek’s mouth felt, it was his speaking that made Stiles moan. In all the time they’d known each other, Stiles had never heard Derek say anything worse than the occasional “Bitch”. Stiles really hoped the celibacy thing they’d agreed on didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to get boners, because if that was the case they needed to stop like five kisses and one ridiculously erotic f word ago.

But Derek didn’t seem to mind, lost in his own world as he pressed kisses to seemingly strategic places on Stiles’ neck and jaw. After a moment, Stiles realized two things. One: Derek was kissing his moles, which was just tooth-achingly sweet, and two: he was mumbling something.

“Wha-what?” Stiles moaned. He really wished he knew more about how to reciprocate, but with Derek so intent on his neck, the best Stiles could do was run his hands up and down Derek’s back and sides.

Derek lifted his head, eyes flickering a little. “You and your stupid neck. Almost jumped you in the kitchen when you made that crack about people wanting to ruin it. That’s my job.” Then, he dove to the task and Stiles’ eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the feel of blunt teeth against a cord of muscle.

Unthinking, Stiles first grasped at Derek’s shirt, then slid his hands underneath it and raked his fingernails down Derek’s ribs. There was a slightly raised mark over a couple of them that Stiles recognized as the rune he’d accidentally tattooed onto Derek when healing him, and he pressed a little harder on it with the pads of his fingers. With a shudder and a groan, Derek’s entire torso spasmed downward.

Their groins connected for one glorious moment before Derek grunted and jerked upward to a kneeling position between Stiles’ legs. He was panting, and looked so dazed that when Stiles tried to pull him back down, he got about halfway before shaking his head and stopping again. “We shouldn’t,” he said. “Getting carried away would be…” Derek seemed to lose his train of thought when Stiles licked self consciously at his lips.

“Uh, bad, right?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded. “Okay, so what if we stand up, can’t get carried away standing up, right?”

Again, Derek nodded, this time much more eagerly.

They quickly realized that, yes, they could get carried away standing up. Especially once Derek had Stiles against a wall and Stiles’ legs around his waist. Derek’s near obsession with Stiles’ neck continued, but this time Stiles was able to get in a couple kisses of his own, inexperienced though they were. When they came back to themselves again, Stiles had the presence of mind to back up a few paces while Derek opened a window. There was no way they were gonna calm down if the whole room smelled like sex.

A balance was finally achieved when Derek dropped into a cozy armchair Stiles hadn’t seen in the same corner the old lamp had been, and Stiles draped himself across Derek’s lap. It was easier for Stiles to contribute like this too, and he relished in the soft noises he managed to coax from Derek by mouthing along his jaw and following his heartbeat down to the dip in his collarbone.

It was new, and exciting, and a little overwhelming, so Stiles softened his touches until his head was just resting on Derek’s shoulder. After a few seconds of contented silence, Stiles had an epiphany that made him whine more pitifully than Erica getting turned down for shoe shopping.

“Today is Wednesday,” he groaned, covering his eyes as though that would be enough to chase the truth of the matter away.

Derek just chuckled, unaware of Stiles’ disastrous realization, and probably still high on pheromones, the little shit. “Yeah, it is. What’s wrong with that?”

Stiles gaped at him. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that tomorrow is Thursday.”

“Uh…and?”

“And, we got home early. And, my dad probably definitely knows this because his deputies know what your car looks like since that whole thing where you were the most wanted fugitive in the state.  _ And _ , that not only means I have to go to school tomorrow, but I also have to go home tonight.”

Now that Derek understood, his gaze softened. “Oh. Right.”

Stiles had to go home. Alone. It’d only been four nights of sleeping next to Derek, technically five if they counted the night before they headed to the Walker’s territory, but Stiles wasn’t honestly sure if he’d be able to sleep alone. More to the point, he desperately didn’t want to.

They moped for a little bit, nuzzling sadly at each other until Derek bit his lip and whispered, “If you wanted me to, I could—”

“Really?” Stiles cried.

The pink ears were back. “Not all the time, and not the whole night. Just…for a little while.”

Stiles responded by kissing Derek soundly. The breathless smile on Derek’s face when he pulled away was a wonderful boost to Stiles’ ego.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be straight, or rather, not-straight, with you guys. I've written some cutesy kisses before, and I've written m/f explicit stuff before, but I've never done anything heavy with m/m. This is the furthest I've ever gone, so I apologize if the writing is stilted or unnatural. Totally my bad, and something I need to practice a bit more before I post anything else like it. I'm doing my best though, and your guys' opinions on it would Really help me out! Tell me what worked, what didn't, how the writing made you feel (though let's keep the comments mature), and what you think I could do to improve my romantic writing. Can't promise I'll Take your advice, but I'll definitely read it.  
> As always, thanks for reading!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The last chapter. I can't believe I've been working on this damn fic for _months _. It's also the longest thing I've ever written. It seems every time I write a new fic I just go longer and longer. Yeesh. Am I gonna end up as one of those 300k people? That sounds so satisfying, but I'm not nearly strong enough as a writer to make it all the way through that.__  
>  ANYWAY. Here we go. I wanna thank my beta one more time. [PerseShow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerseShow/profile) is a freaking angel for working with me through all of this, when it isn't even one of her fandoms. <3

Walking through the school doors the next day was like stepping back into reality. No more werewolves or territory wars, or diplomatic faux pau’s to worry about. Just homework, tests, and whether the tattoo concealer Lydia had shoved into Stiles’ hands before he went home had properly covered up the frankly outrageous number of hickeys Stiles was currently sporting. She’d helped him put it on properly over video chat in the morning, so he assumed it was good enough, and no one was staring.

For that matter, no one was giving him a second thought. All the sappy teen movies and books Stiles had seen and read over the years said people looked different after they had their sexual awakening. He and Derek hadn’t done anything more than some serious kissing and a little heavy petting the night before, but Stiles still felt  _ different _ . Not only was he in a real relationship for the first time, but it was with a guy. A dude. Stiles officially had something in common with Danny Māhealani and he couldn’t even say anything lest word spread and his dad find out.

But nobody noticed, not even his pack.

Cora wasn’t there. They’d finally gotten the full story of her being raised in a pack in South America and how she was supposed to be escorted to Derek once they heard he was alive, but the other wolves traveling with her were killed by the Alphas. Her plan all along had been to join her brother, rebuild the Hale pack, and preserve their family’s legacy. But first, she needed to get enrolled in high school. Derek had texted Stiles around third period to let him know they were at the Child Welfare Center, getting him registered as her legal guardian. He was now a father of two, according to the state.

Everyone else was in classes as usual, even Scott. Isaac was clinging to him like velcro between each period to help him keep his cool with the newly heightened Alpha senses.

It was all so normal. The only remotely weird thing that happened was their English teacher Ms. Blake was suddenly gone, having quit without notice and left town while they were away at the Walkers’. At lunch, Stiles got up the courage to ask whether he looked different at all, making the excuse that he’d tried a new hair style that morning. Which, he had. It was a mixture of bedhead, and Derek’s hands tangling in it as they kissed before he had to dive out the window to avoid the Sheriff.

“No, you look the same as you always do after hanging out with Derek,” Scott offered. He was munching on Lydia’s salad with a sour face, after nearly choking on his burger and trading meals with her. Normal werewolf taste buds made grease noticeable, but Alpha taste buds just made it gross. Poor dude would never eat curly fries the same again.

“That is to say, like a lovestruck idiot. Also, you stink of makeup, but somehow still don’t look human,” Isaac finished. Stiles threw a fry at him.

Of course. Stiles and Derek had been together for ages, even if they’d only figured it out a few days ago. And to think, they could have spent all that time snuggling, kissing, and being blissfully obnoxious to everyone around them. All that was left was to explain the whole werewolves and magic thing to his dad, and then the whole mates/boyfriend thing, and then live through the grounding. After that, Stiles would be free to kiss Derek as often and as much as he wanted. Which was a lot.

A lima bean hit Stiles in the eye. “Stiles, stop it. I’m having enough issues keeping my food down,” Scott growled.

“Sorry, not sorry, Scotty. I mean have you  _ seen _ —” At that moment, a couple lacrosse players, including Danny, showed up at the long table and situation themselves around the opposite end from the pack. One of them left a polite seat of distance between himself and Erica, and Boyd snickered a little even as he wrapped a protective arm over her shoulder. Protective for the guys, not Erica, who already had a predatory smile on her face.

“—the game?” Stiles finished lamely.

Taking his cue, Lydia jumped in with a perfect summary of the most recent lacrosse game between Devenford Prep and Weaverville High that caught everyone’s interest. Stiles relaxed when everyone settled into trash talking their biggest competition, and added his own commentary whenever he thought of a particularly witty pun to make Allison giggle and Isaac gag. Under the table he sent Heather a text, his third apology since getting back into town. He wasn’t sure how to explain the frankly huge miscommunication that’d happened, but since her only reply so far had been an explicit reminder to leave her alone, he wasn’t sure she would give him the chance to.

It was a problem for another day, and Stiles pushed away any of his worries until lunch was over, when Danny bumped Stiles’ arm as they took their trays to the trash. “Hey, Stilinski. Did you do something to your hair?”

Stiles laughed so hard that Isaac and Lydia took pictures.

 

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if it was a bit anti-climactic, I mostly wrote this last chapter as a way to tie up loose ends and settle things a little. I like calm endings, cus' I'm boring.
> 
> Anywho, we're all done! Finally, the fic is finished!
> 
> Some of you have asked whether I'm going to write a third part, and my honest answer is I don't know. I've got So much stuff going on lately, writing near the end was like two sentences in the morning, and another sentence at 1am the next night kind of a deal, and it was stressful as fuck. If I do write a third part, it'll be pretty small, and I won't post it until I've got it completely written for you guys. I don't wanna put you through that hiatus thing again.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you've already read the _first_ part of this series, and if you haven't I strongly encourage it, since I don't know how much of this fic actually made sense to you without that background.
> 
> I have a lot of plans for writing more fics for Sterek, and if you're interested in seeing those whenever they start getting posted, I would suggest subscribing to my profile. That way you get notifications any time I post a new fic or a new chapter in a fic.
> 
> If you wanna come hang out, come visit me on my main [tumblr](http://livinginfictions.tumblr.com/) or on my Sterek specific [tumblr](https://asterekmess.tumblr.com/)where I share fic recs I see and gifs, and occasionally go on rants about these beautiful boys. I'd love to see you guys over there, and if you do follow me, go ahead and send me a message to let me know you're from Ao3!
> 
> Thanks again for the _amazing_ support you've all shown me throughout this fic, and sorry for the super long end notes.  <3 Until next time, darlings.


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